Hide in the Shadows
by LostinOblivion
Summary: Picks up where the 5th season finale left off. Rated T just in case. FINISHED!
1. Fugative

Don't own them, never will.

This is my first Crossing Jordan story, tried to do the characters well, but we'll see. If I get anything wrong, sorry, it happens.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Fugative**

"Have you heard from Jordan?" It wasn't a polite question that came from Woody Hoyt, but rather a near-panicked demand. He had torn into the Boston Morgue, and aimed straight for Macy's office, praying that the Morgue crew had stashed Jordan away somewhere. His hopes were quickly dashed.

"No. And before you ask we've all been calling her for hours, both cell and house lines. Even called her father's place and the Pogue. Bug just went to her apartment." Garret answered the flood of questions before they came.

"Tell him not to bother I was just there. Damn it where is she?"

"Well, I hate to say it, but she probably ran."

"That would be skipping bail."

"She is suspected for two murders, and this is Jordan; would you expect her to just lie down and take it?" Woody didn't answer, but instead gave him a dark look. Jordan had been unreachable for almost 18 hours now, and everybody was worried, at least all her friends. Lu had only stepped up her efforts to locate Jordan, going so far at to put out an APB on her.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Woody cursed as he slammed his fist into a nearby wall.

"Did that make you feel better?" Garret commented sarcastically, almost infuriately calm, at least in Woody's mind.

"Sure." He didn't get the chance to say any more as he phone rang.

"Hoyt." There was a short pause followed by a panicked response from Woody.

"Repeat that Greg." He closed his eyes then, and looked pained.

"Alright I'm on my way."

"I know they won't allow me to be involved, but that won't stop me from following them wherever the trace leads."

"Yeah, thanks. Bye." He flipped the phone closed, and looked up at the Chief ME, who was waiting for him to relate the phone call.

"Lu is going to trace Jordan using her cell phone. I'm going over there now, I'll follow them if they get a hit, and make sure she's okay."

"Good. Go." Was all he said and Woody took off.

Back at the Boston Homicide PD, Detective Lu Simmons was borrowing some techs to help her trace her now-fugitive. Soon as she found Jordan she'd throw her ass in jail and she could sit there until trial. Even if she wanted to keep her out, at this point she couldn't, Jordan had violated her bail, and left them with no other options. She was staring at the images of the city on the screen as they changed, attempting to figure out what it meant, when he now ex-boyfriend and fellow detective came through the door. _Damn! Who clued him in on this, now he is going to give me problems._

"Hey Lu, you caught Jordan yet?" He asked with cheek that would make Monty Python proud.

"We were just trying to trace her phone, but I get the feeling you know that already."

"Trace worked yet?" He asked dodging her question.

"We haven't called her yet, they just finished stepping up the equipment." As if on cue the techie looked up from his chair at her, and gave her a thumbs up.

"Go ahead and call now." Lu nodded and dialed Jordan's number, which she kept in the address book in her desk. The woman was an ME and they did have to work together on occasion, and now she was glad she bothered to catalogue her number; this way she didn't have to go through Woody, or worse Macy.

The phone rang for several beats and then went to Jordan's voice mail. She began to leave a message, hoping to buy the tech time to pick up the phone's signal. As the tech made a circular motion with his finger, she struggled to drag out the message. Soon the map on the computer screen began to zoom in, until it targeted a precise address, and Lu gratefully hung up.

"She's at 27th and Pine, and it doesn't look like she's moving."

"Good. Keep this screen up and call me if she moves."

"Of course Detective." And with that Lu torn out of the building, with Woody right behind her.

"Woody you can't come, you aren't on the case and you are way to close to this."

"Who said I planned to helping with the arrest?" He replied, again all cheek.

Both cops climbed into there respective cars, Woody taking off first, much to Lu's annoyance. Using lights and sirens, and breaking half the traffic laws on the books, both tore across the city in what could be considered a competition. Though Woody knew Lu would never hurt Jordan, he couldn't ignore the feeling in his gut that told him thigns would get much worse before they even hinted at getting better. Likewise, Lu knew Woody wouldn't actually try to interfere in there arrest, or do anything illegal to help Jordan (though she did have her doubts), his devotion still worried her.

Finally, they both arrived on the scene, Woody first, followed closely by Lu, another unmarked, and two patrol cars. _That's a hell of a detail to collect one of our own,_ thought Woody as he eyed the scene and was even gladder that he came. There was no Jordan anywhere in sight though. All the cops were looking around, and Lu pulled out her cell, and dialed Jordan's number, waiting for a ring. They waited silently for what felt like minutes, and then a ring went off. A young patrolmen was standing closest to the sound, and looked into the garbage can by his side, digging a bit, and finally coming out with the ringing cell phone. Woody felt ill. _This can't be good._

Lu looked annoyed, then surveyed the surrounding buildings, "Riggs and Jefferies check out the coffee shop, show her picture. Galway and Ripley, that little grocery store. Charlie, me and you will take the pawn shop." She didn't even bother looking at Woody, who followed them into the pawn shop.

"Excuse me Sir, I am Detective Simmons. Have you seen this woman in here or nearby?" She asked flashing her shield.

"What if I did?" He was abrasive, rude, and rather dirty looking.

"What did she buy?"

"I can't quite remember, you know how it is, so many customers."

"I wonder how much of this is stolen property. I could get a whole lot of uniforms in here to tear the place apart."

"Alright, alright, ease up." He placated, concerned for his business, "She bought a gun, a 44, with a nine clip. Smith and Wesson. Anything else Detective?"

"Yeah do you know where she was going."

"No, we didn't get into deep conversation. She seemed to be in a bit a rush. Now I can see why." He finished his sentence dripping with sarcasm. Lu didn't even comment, just nodded, turned her heel, and left.

Once outside, she began dictating instruction again to one of the uniforms, who'd all come up empty-handed.

"Jefferies, I need you to add to the bulletin for Cavanaugh. She is now considered armed and dangerous, packing a loaded 44, with a full nine clip." She didn't say it lightly.

"Jesus, Lu, come on, you can't do that."

"The people looking for her need to know."

"Damn it Lu, she isn't going to hurt a cop."

"You don't know that Woody, as far as we know she already killed two men."

"God Lu, listen to yourself. This is Jordan, you know her, she isn't capable of that."

"I don't know her that well Woody, and your judgment is severely clouded."

"Screw my judgment then. Lu, if you put that out, cops will shoot first and ask questions later. Jordan is going to end up in a body bag, because of some trigger-happy rookie! You can't do that."

"I can, I am, and I did Detective, I suggest you get back to your own cases." It hurt for her to treat Woody that way, but she couldn't let her feelings jeopardize this case.

"And Galway and Ripley," she said turning from her car, "Go into the pawn shop and arrest the owner for possession and selling a firearm illegally." Then she left without looking back.

* * *

Jordan tore around her apartment throwing clothes, and who knew what else in her bag. She knew they would find the bartender's body soon, and with it her fingerprints, and come after her. She also knew all her friends would be searching for her, and couldn't risk involving them anymore than they were. It was becoming too dangerous. She got herself into this mess, she would get herself back out. Closing the bag after throwing her keys in, Jordan locked the door and headed to her El Camino. 

Exiting the elevator, and heading toward her car, she caught sight of another familiar vehicle- Woody. _Shit! _She quickly ducked into the nearby stairwell, praying he hadn't seen her. And he hadn't. Looking worried, agitated, and near distraught all at once, Woody broke records tearing out of his car and running to the elevator. After he had climbed in and the elevator beeped signaling it had begun its ascent, Jordan ran to her El Camino, and began her drive to nowhere.

After an hour of aimless driving Jordan parked in a deserted parking lot, and made a b-line for the nearby pay phone. Flipping through the address book she had al but forgotten she kept, she picked the number for a kid she had helped years ago.

"Andy, Hey. It's Jordan."

"Yeah, It's been a while. Are you still clean?"

"That's great Andy. Really…I hate to do this, but I need your help."

'Yeah, trouble is a mild word to describe it."

"You still work at that auto shop"

"Well, a paint job for starters, pretty much a disguise for my El Camino."

"I'm sorry Andy, I really hate to do this to you."

"Thank you so much, I owe you one." He told her it made them even, but she still felt horrible begging him for illegal help after he had worked so hard to get clean.

Running her hand through her hair, and sighing in disgust, Jordan climbed back into her car, heading toward the Wrenches and Oil Auto shop. She spent the short ride attempting to figure out what to do seeing as how she was a fugitive now. She figured her only option was to drive down to D.C. and search through Pollack's apartment, try to find more information on this Judge. Knowing Pollack his notes and information were safely stowed on his office computer, and hard copies hidden in his house. Going to his office was out of the question, someone might recognize her, or they would never let her in. She still remembered the address that he had told her of his apartment, she didn't have the key, but as Woody once told her, she was pretty good at breaking and entering. He had told her that when _he _had been suspected of killing someone, though then it was only suspicion of manslaughter, for her it was murder, maybe two now.

She was so lost in her head, she was surprised when she pulled into the auto shop. It didn't take her long to find Andy, who was right out front filling out the paperwork on a Buick Skylark.

"Jordan, you want to tell me what kind of mess you got yourself into?"

"Let's just say worse than yours six years ago."

"Come on Jordan, you can tell me, I'm not gonna rat you out." She was about to answer when she heard what sounded like a police scanner crackling.

"You guys keep a scanner here?" She asked eyeing him.

"Place used to be a chop shop, they left that, and now Trey keeps in on to get a heads up when the cops have a busted car that he may be able to leech parts from." Jordan nodded, that was good, she could hear when they found the body, if they hadn't already, which was unlikely.

"So since you won't tell me what's wrong, tell me what you need." She silently thanked him for caving and not making her tell.

"Whatever you can give me to make the El Camino look different." He went out to look at her car, and rubbed his head, looking none too pleased.

"Alright. We'll start with a paint job, I'll see what I can do about new plates, maybe thrown on some corny bumper stickers. It's gonna take a couple hours at the least though."

"That's fine. I'm just grateful for whatever you can do for me." He nodded and retreated back into the shop to grab supplies, while she moved her car in.

An hour later he was still carefully painting the car silver, one of the most common colors on the road, and very different than the dark blue that was already there. Jordan sat off to the side making small talk as he worked. She learned he had gotten married and had a child since he had cleaned up, for Jordan it was nice to hear some good news for the first time in days. He was talking about his son Adam, when the scanner crackled loudly.

"APB update for Jordan Cavanaugh, suspect in two murders. All units are to be aware that she is now listed as armed and dangerous. Repeat is now considered armed and dangerous, all units be advised. The fugitive is armed with a loaded 44 with a nine clip, Smith and Wesson. Repeat description, female, brunette, brown eyes, 5 feet, 7 inches, last seen in blue jeans, and a denim jacket. Any unit spots her immediately contact Det. Tallulah Simmons."

Andy stared at Jordan, not believing what he had just heard, Jordan a ME, one of their own and they suspected her in two murders, and actually listed her as armed and dangerous.

"Jordan?" he asked tentatively.

"I didn't kill anyone."

"I didn't think you did, but why the hell do they? And why the hell are they calling you dangerous?"

"It's a long story, but to keep it short, I didn't kill anyone. I violated my bail, and I am armed, but only because someone took shots at me." He nodded slowly looking at her, then seemed to be thinking for a moment.

"I can do better than disguise you're car, and honey you need it,so don't try to turn me down. Here, it's a black 86' Daytona. My wife says I should get rid of it anyway, she'll be thrilled it's gone."

"You really don't have to do that Andy."

"Shut up, take the car, and haul ass outta here Jordan." She gave him a quick hug, whispered thanks, and ran to find the car, in the jumble at the auto shop.


	2. Armed and Dangerous

**AN:** _Thank you every one for all the reviews! I was completely floored. Anyway it was entirely possible she was already in D.C. when the finale ended, I just don't remember. Again, apologies if I get anything wrong. Anybody remember the name fo the judge? Thanks. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Macy." Garret answered his ringing cell, while juggling what felt like eight bibles worth of paper.

"Garret we have a problem." If Woody had wanted Garret's undivided attention, he had, Woody never called Garret by his first name.

"What happened? Is she okay?"

"We tracked her to a pawn shop, where she bought a gun." Woody paused, unsure how to word the next part.

"And, if somebody is killing people to cover up this Judge story, Jordan is smart to arm herself."

"Yeah, sure, but, Lu had her listed as armed and dangerous."

"She what?" Garret's tone was dripping with acid.

"Jordan is now considered armed and dangerous."

"I heard you the first time, Hoyt. What the hell was she thinking? Cops only use that if they are hoping to catch their target in a body bag. Is she trying to get Jordan killed?"

"I tried to talk her out of it, but she wasn't hearing it. I don't know what to do now. God Garret, we have to find her before anyone else does." Woody sounded like a lost child: scared, tired, and panicked.

"Agreed but where do you suggest we look, nobody is better at running than Jordan. God knows she has had enough practice."

"I'm going to go back to her apartment and tear it apart, can I borrow Nigel or Bug? Maybe we can find some clue as to where she would go."

"Sure, I'll get Nigel, he should be finishing up an autopsy soon."

"Great, thanks. If I find anything, I'll call you."

"Thanks. Good luck." And with that both men hung up, both feeling incredibly defeated, but struggling to remind themselves that Jordan would never admit defeat. Garret dry swallowed his umpteenth Advil that day, willing his migraine to finally subside.

"Nigel! Nigel where the hell are you?" Garret called speed walking through the morgue.

"I'm right here. What's going on?" Nigel appeared flanked by Bug and a very worried Lily. The trio had been practically inseparable since the whole fiasco began, and were more so now that Jordan was MIA.

"Jordan has just been classified as armed and dangerous."

"Sweet Mary and the manger! What did they go and do that for?" All three faces in front of him turned pale.

"She bought a gun from a pawn shop, apparently that was enough."

"It better have been a bloody AK47! A damned grenade launcher!" Nigel exclaimed exasperated.

"They can't be afraid she is going to shoot a cop, it's Jordan." Lily spoke in disbelief.

"Apparently Lu is, it was her call."

"What was she thinking when she decided this? Some stupid trigger-happy cop is going to end up shooting Jordan." Bug looked angry, and nobody ventured to comment; they were all worried about the same thing.

"Woody went over to Jordan's apartment to try and find any clue as to where she ran to. Nigel I want you to drop whatever you're working on and head over there with your arsenal of toys. If there ever was a time to break out the works, its now. Bug and Lily you two comb through her desk, you probably won't find anything, but just in case." Three heads nodded as Nigel went to pack up his toys, and Bug and Lily went to search through Jordan's office. Garret returned to his own office, planning a very irate call to a certain detective.

* * *

Meanwhile, on the 37th of one of Boston's tallest buildings, a man sat parked in his government office. His feet were up on his desk as he leaned back in his chair, and he sucked on a thin, filter-less cigarette. The drags were long, deliberate, and incredibly self-satisfied, a perfect match to the man who loved them. When he got to the end of one, he lit his next, always with a fresh match. He abhorred chain-smoking, as convenient as it would have been for him, he found it dirty in a way.

He was the man you have seen and read about, in every thriller, in every Tom Clancy novel. He was the man who never had a name, who never seem to really exist. The shadow behind the scenes who seemed to control so much, so much more than those he worked for. This time he found his job fairly simple. In fact it was so simple it should have been taken care of with the set-up, and perhaps it still would. But she ran, this added a bit of a complication. He didn't expect that.

He didn't expect a medical examiner, who worked so closely with the police, who always seemed to take the moral high ground, with few indiscretions, to take off. He figured a woman like her would proclaim her innocence until the sun swallowed the earth, but take what they dished at her. Obviously he didn't know as much about her as he'd hoped. No matter, he wasn't worried.

"You have an update." It wasn't a question he posed, no, it wasn't an order.

"Yes sir. They have Dr. Cavanaugh listed as armed and dangerous now, apparently she bought a gun." The man sitting in the chair across from him was nervous. He sat twitching in his seat, jumping at every sound in the room, terrified of his own shadow. At least, while he was near this man.

"She's still missing?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." He smiled this was better than he hoped for, stupid woman would get herself shot by a cop.

"We still have all their phones tapped, and a few bugs around the morgue…one at Hoyt's desk. She hasn't contacted them yet."

"Keep listening, and watching. You still have people watching don't you?"

"Yes, yes sir, of course we do."

"I want people in Washington and New York by the end of the week. I don't want her finding out anymore than she has, my employers would not be happy."

"Yes sir." The man nervously shifted in his seat, waiting for more orders.

"You can go now." His toned dripped with acid and contempt for the figure before him, pathetic and wiggling. He didn't have time for him. He had calls to make, pressure to exert, oh how he loved his job, the power rush, like a warm blanket. He thought as he took another drag and dialed numbers, listening to the ringing on the other end.

"Yes, Commissioner, we need to talk."

* * *

Jordan was still shaken after hearing the scanner, did they actually think she was a threat to the Boston PD? That was the purpose of A&D calls, to protect officers should they encounter the suspect or as in this case, fugitive. She had driven toward D.C. for half an hour, and then realized that she was still too shaken to concentrate, and pulled over in a rest stop. What was she supposed to do now? She wearily put her face in her hands and leaned against the steering wheel, but that only brought her images of Pollack dead. His body right next to her, his blood splattered all over her, and that gun in her hand.

She could only remember feeling that scared twice in her life, when she found her mother murdered, and when she got the call that Woody was shot. This was just another nightmare in a cycle that refused to end, but rather came after her again and again. She didn't know if she was in love with Pollack, but she was happy with him. She did love him in some sort of way, but she had trouble shaking the hurt she felt after she learned he had used her. But she cared about him enough to try again, to try and trust him, to open her heart one more time. A lot of good that did her, she had been so desperate to try and find his killer, praying at first that it wasn't her, that she hadn't had the chance to mourn him. Another person she loved gone, damn it, how much more of this could she handle before she snapped?

She could tell her friends wondered the same thing; the way they looked at her through the whole event, like they were waiting for her to…what? Put her little 22 in her mouth and end her misery? Sometimes they made her feel like even more of a mental case than she already felt like. They were only being concerned, offering help, trying to protect her, but it still bothered her sometimes. Sometimes she wondered, no feared, she would end up institutionalized like her mother. God, she could think of a few people who would be entirely too amused at that thought. No, she shook herself to get those pathetic self-pitying thoughts out of her head. She was better, stronger than that, and she had too much to do to dwell.

She pulled back onto the road, flipping on the radio for a distraction. Andy had it set to some rap/hip hop station, _no way_, she thought, twisting the dial. _Country_, _eh, even worse. Pop…God none of the pop Barbie princesses. Techno, good to dance to, but not really drive to. The Stones, can't go wrong there. _She kept on the classic rock station for a couple of hours until it changed, and she pulled into a gas station. She needed to fill the tank, and get water and food. Her stomach still wasn't into the idea of eating, but if she didn't get something to eat she'd probably faint.

After filling the tank she into the attached convenience store, and grabbed a few bottles of water, and an already made sandwich. She would just have to hope the place was cleaner than it looked, or pretend that she didn't care. She headed to the counter and laid down her purchases for the cashier and caught sight of the ugly sky outside.

"It's going to be ugly out there tonight. They are expecting a hurricane on the coast, news just released a severe weather warning."

"You don't sell umbrellas, do you?" She figured it was false hope but she may as well ask.

"Sure, right behind, on that stand." He said gesturing, "We also sell flashlights to, you want one?"

"That I have." She smiled adding a black umbrella to her purchases.

"I hope you don't have too much more traveling to do." He offered pleasantly as he counted out her change. But Jordan wasn't listening, she had glanced up at the TV to maybe catch a snippet of the weather report, and found herself looking at her own mug shot. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. _

"Not much more," she answered nervously snapping her attention back to him, "Thanks." She tore out of the tiny store, and like she had been doing for what was beginning to feel like weeks, she flew to her car, and sped away as fast as she could.

_It wasn't enough to put an APB out on her, but the threw her picture on the news, like she was some common criminal. That'll certainly bring Dad back to Boston_, thought Jordan grimly, amused that she could find a silver lining under the circumstances.

Jordan skipped Hartford, New Haven, New York, and Trenton, avoiding every major city she came across, knowing that they would be on the lookout first. Sure, nobody was looking for the car, but hell, they were looking for her, and she wasn't taking chances. She was just leaving Pennsylvania when the forewarned storm hit full force, pounded the car with gusts of wind and blasts of pouring rain. She forced the car on ten minutes more, but then had to give up, there was no way the twenty-year-old car was staying on the road. Annoyed, but effectively defeated she pulled into a rest stop, turned the car off, locked the doors, and decided to try and pass out for the night. It was late anyway, nearing 2 o'clock in the morning, and Jordan was completely drained.


	3. Runaway

Sorry for the lack of updates, but summer classes suck, very work intensive. Anway, as always thank you all for the reviews, I value them as others value gold. I am posting two new chapters, and an another apology. I probably won't update for a a few weeks, I am moving back to Jersey, and will probably be working 7 days a week, so limited time.

This chapter is named for a Bon Jovi song, best band in the world, I adore them.

As always, I don't own Crossing Jordan, if I did I wouldn't be yelling at the TV on a weekly basis. There isn't too much on Jordan in this one, it is easier and more fun to write when you have characters actually interacting, with Jordan it's very internal at this point. Working on changing that. Enjoy!

* * *

**Runaway**

"Lu, listen to me, this is nuts, Jordan isn't a threat to anyone and you know that!" Garret was agitated and worried, and his tone let that be known.

"No, I don't know that. The fact is Dr. Macy, she has a gun. She has a gun and she already killed two people. And you aren't a cop, you're an M.E., so this really isn't your business." Lu knew as soon as she said that it was a bad idea, but she had grown sick and exhausted of defending herself against everyone.

"No my business! Jordan is one of my employees, more than that she is one of my closest friends. Hell yes, this is my business! More importantly Detective, as one of your coworkers she should get a little consideration."

"I wish I could, but Jordan is missing, armed, and presumably dangerous. I'm just doing my job, so call your dogs off. Most of this isn't even coming from me, it's from high up. Just please, let me do my job, and just remember, if she is innocent, why did she run? Now, goodbye, Doctor."

"Because that is what Jordan does. She runs!" Garret yelled back before he realized she hung up on him. He sat for a moment massaging his temples, willing his nagging headache away.

"Damn it Jordan!" He yelled before he stormed out of his office, intent on changing into scrubs and at least monitoring, the new on-loan, 'objective' Dr. Grubinsky. As it was all that Nigel and Woody had come up with was that Jordan had already torn through her apartment, likely packing. There was nothing they didn't know already. And all Bug and Lily had gained in their search was guilt for digging through their friends office. He was running out of ideas and prayers.

Entering exam room two, the first thing Garret noticed about Dr. Anita Grubinsky is that she was a tiny woman, near pint-sized. She couldn't be more than 5' 2", and probably weighed around 110 lbs. Deep auburn curls poured out of her loose bun, and her green eyes were set upon the body in front of her, not even registering Garret's presence. Garret stared at her for while, until she gave a satisfied and triumphant yelp.

"Ha, Got it!" She smiled as she placed a smashed bullet in the tray next to her.

"Dr. Macy you don't need to watch me, objective also means that I have nothing against your friend, Dr…Cavanaugh?" She said finally acknowledging him, and struggling to remember Jordan's name.

"I'm sure you are very professional Dr. Grubinsky, but I would prefer to be here."

"Your call, but while you're here I have good news. Unless Dr. Cavanaugh carries one hell of an arsenal, it is very unlikely that she is responsible for this. Though there are a few bruises we could probably attribute to her."

Garret simply stared at her unbelieving. Did she just clear Jordan of the second murder?

"He was shot with very large rifle, twice almost perfectly aimed at the heart. This was professional, likely a hit," she paused, "You can breathe now."

Garret hadn't even realized he was holding his breath, which he quickly exhaled. "Thank you Dr. Grubinsky. Be sure you get those results to the police as soon as

soon you're done here."

With that he turned and left. Dr. Anita Grubinsky just shook her head in amusement, she had heard the group here was close, but this was more than close. She briefly wondered if perhaps the two were romantically involved, before remembering the two other M.E.s she'd met, Nigel and Bug they had introduced themselves as, had showed the same amount of concern. This Dr. Cavanaugh couldn't possibly be sleeping with all of them, she wondered what made them all so close. Even the grief counselor seemed very close to everyone.

* * *

Meanwhile, Woody felt like he was going to throw up as he sat in his car in the morgue parking lot. He couldn't believe what was going on in this case; somebody was gunning for Jordan, and it was scaring the hell out of him. Jordan wasn't even convicted yet and they were hunting her like an animal. Woody didn't know if he wanted to cry, vomit, scream and curse, or bitch-out his boss before turning over his badge and weapon. He knew he couldn't do that though, Jordan would kill him when she found out, and he couldn't give up his still informational position. Not with Jordan in so much trouble, she didn't even know how much trouble she was in at this point.

Gingerly he climbed out of the car, and he could feel himself perspiring. They were not going to take this latest development well, but they needed to know in case Jordan contacted them. God knows after everything, she wasn't going to call him. Taking the elevator up, Woody was feeling more and more apprehensive, but shook himself, and yelled at himself to suck it up. He climbed out of the elevator and was promptly greeted by Lily, who looked harassed as she juggled a stack of files.

"Woody, any news from your end?" she looked hopefully at Woody, but when she saw his face any hope on her end vanished to be replaced by worry.

"Yeah, where is Garret?"

"His office…Woody what's going on?"

"I have to go talk to him." Woody met Lily's eyes through the exchange and hurried off to Garret's office, while she headed to trace to find Bug and Nigel.

"Garret." Woody paused not quite sure how to word what would come next.

"Woody." Garret was completely out of patience and didn't try to hide it.

"There has been a development in Jordan's case."

"Wonderful use of euphemisms, your English teachers would be proud, not cut the crap and tell me what they are doing now."

"The higher-ups called in U.S. Marshals to track her."

"They did what!" It was Bug, as he, Nigel and Lily arrived with perfect timing.

"Lu and the chief, they called in a handful of U.S. Marshals to try to locate and apprehend Jordan."

"Bloody hell, what's with all the pressure?" Nigel asked half mockingly.

"Not my call Nigel. I am just as worried as you are. God damn it, somebody is seriously out for Jordan's blood, and I don't know who or why or how to stop them." Woody finished and ran a hand through his messy hair, demonstrating the frustration he'd felt from the last few days.

"So what do we do? None of us no where she is and we obviously can't call and warn her." Bug asked the million-dollar question.

"Woody would it matter if we could prove she didn't kill the bartender?" Garret had a tone to his voice that suggested he'd developed a plan.

"Maybe, it couldn't hurt…why? Can you prove it?" He suddenly looked very excited.

"The bartender was shot with a rather large, rather powerful rifle. He was shot by a professional sniper. _That_ is not Jordan."

"Your right, that isn't Jordan. Alright, do you have the report ready?"

"Dr. Grubinsky should be completing it now. Try Jordan's office." Garret went to pick up his phone when he realized two doctors, a grief consuelor, and a detective were looking at him as if he had betrayed them.

"Well, I had to put her somewhere didn't I? I have no plans on replacing Jordan, she's only a temporary. Now stop looking at me like that, I feel like I just broke up with all of you. Everyone out of my office, I need to start calling in favors and promising opera tickets." He finished and gestured to the door.

The group exited the small office, talking quietly, but very fast and animated.

"How did this become such a big mess, they can't really think Jordan is that much of a danger…at least not to anybody but herself." Nigel finished with an afterthought.

"I'm really worried about her, she just disappeared when she needs us most. God, they could kill her, what if they kill her?" Bug put an arm around Lily trying to sooth his new girlfriend, who looked increasingly troubled as he spoke.

"Jordan disappeared because she needed to clear her name, Lily. She'll be back and if the Feds and NYPD, no offense Woody, know what's good for them, she'll be in one piece." He rubbed her shoulder, but she didn't look convinced, and he didn't feel convinced.

"Can you guys go see if Dr. whatever her name is has that file ready, I just need to tell Garret something." Woody had been quiet since they left the office, but his face gave way to the anxiety just beneath the surface.

"Garret-" Garret gave him the shush signal as Woody poked back in the office, and waited for the ME to get off the phone.

"Yes, Jake, I know we are even now _and_ I owe you. Yes. Yes. Thanks a lot." He hung up.

"What now Woody, did they call in the National Guard on her?" His words carried humor, but his expression was anything but.

"No, I just…I wanted…if she calls you Garret, eh, damn it, just tell her to come home… God, she can't do this on her own Garret. She needs someone."

"Woody, as much as Jordan is protecting herself and fighting for her life by running, she is also protecting all of us. For once Jordan is protecting us from getting involved to deep. And what makes you think, _you _won't be the one she calls?" Garret tried to comfort the young man who had fallen for his favorite M.E. so long ago, and still seemed to feel that way.

"We haven't been on the best of terms Garret. I don't think she really trusts me anymore, not after the thing with Lu." He looked saddened as he admitted this.

"Don't give up on her Woody. Now go and get the Feds off her back." With that Garret sighed and went back to his phone calls. He didn't even want to begin to understand their relationship and the mess it had become.

Woody left the office, but didn't feel any better. The worry over Jordan was eating him alive, and he didn't know how much more he could take before he ran after her. He might have already if he had any idea where she would have gone. He got to Jordan's office and if possible felt sicker at the sight of the morgue gang in Jordan's office with some other woman. It wasn't right, it didn't look right, it didn't feel right, no it was very, very wrong.

"Hey guys, please say you have that report for me." He hid his uneasy feeling under a falsely calm veneer.

"You must be Detective Hoyt. Here just finished it. Good Luck." Anita Grubinsky smiled and handed him the folder that she had just finished detailing to the other three people in the room.

"Thanks doctor." He nodded and said a quick goodbye to the other three and left, hoping against hope that this folder would convince his ex and his boss that Jordan wasn't dangerous, let alone a killer.

* * *

Jordan rose stiffly and sleepily from her nap in the car; her dreams were haunted all night with visions of blood. It wasn't just of JD's death she dreamed, but every death that had touched her in her life, her mother, Devan, her brother, even that bartender. It was as if the pain of the present was forcibly drudging up the pain of the past, and it made sleep completely unappealing, if not impossible.

She started the car, flicking on the radio, and pulling out of the rest stop. As if in some corny fairytale, the horrific storm of yesterday gave way to blazing sunshine, and she had to pull the visor down to shield her eyes. She yawned loudly as she pulled back on to the highway, hoping to get to Washington by noon.

And she did, ten minutes past twelve o'clock Jordan past the ghettos that surrounded the city and began to enter the D.C. that everybody knew. She pulled out the map she had purchased when J.D. had told her he was moving to D.C., she didn't know why she bought it, considering that they had broken up, she just felt the need to. She traced the roads with her index finger until she found what she was looking for, Oak and 49th, J.D. lived in an apartment building in 4926 Oak street.

Whatever they were looking for, Jordan hoped they didn't find it. She surveyed the room, which was torn to pieces, obviously victim to a rather extensive search. She gingerly stepped around the mess on the floor, her hopes falling with every footfall. This was not good, whatever had been there, they found already. She would likely not leave with anything to clear her name, but still she dug through the scene.

Newspapers, broken lamp, broken glass, plate, wrapper, half a dozen coffee cups, a pile of useless junk from the side table drawer. There it was, a dozen scribbled in notebooks, and a tape recorder, though with no tape. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, all they had was a lot of rumors about half the politicians in the city, and some rather graphic details from a few murders, classic Pollack.

As she had thought there was nothing to help her in that apartment, and she was tired. She had combed through the whole apartment; it hadn't taken her long to get through the three rooms. Now she was discouraged, exhausted and not for the first time since the whole affair began she was scared. For the first time in a while, she wanted to go home, she wanted to walk into the morgue, and shoot Garret a half-smile that would instantly make him forgive her for being late. She wanted hope over to trace and banter with Nigel, she'd even take the awkward conversation with Woody. She been gone two days, but her predicament was making her long for what she had.

It was with these thoughts that she climbed into her car, and drove around until she found a box store parking lot. She chose a spot in a far corner hoping that little attention would be paid to her Daytona. Then she did something she would never imagined she would be reduced to- she opened one of the back seats, and climbed into the trunk, closing the seat enough so that she could still get out. A cop wouldn't care if there was a car left there, however if they found her there, she would be thrown in prison for months until her trial started. She yawned, and curled up, hoping that this miserable spot would allow her a little sleep.

* * *

"Macy! Macy!" Max Cavanaugh was rushing through the morgue, angrily shouting for his daughter's boss.

"Max, where the hell have you been?" Garret was more than surprised to see that Max Cavanaugh had returned, after leaving the way he had.

"What the hell is going on? I see my girl's face on the on the news and they are calling her killer! What happened! Where is she, she isn't home and her office is empty!"

"Calm down. Here come into my office, I'll explain everything." Garret held the door open and massaged his temples, this would be fun.

"Alright, the Boston PD thinks Jordan killed her ex-boyfriend, and the bartender that she thinks drugged her." Garret began, as he relived the last few days. Max would demand every detail, and what they were doing to help.

"What about Woody, he's got to be on her side." He said once Garret finished.

"Always, but I pulled myself off her case." Woody answered as he entered the office, catching the last sentence, and at Max's curious look he continued, "I couldn't help them put her away Max. I won't."

"That must of made you popular."

"Yeah, well, I don't think they expected much different, including Lu." Garret raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing. Max ignored the comment, too distraught over his daughter being in another mess.

"Max! You haven't heard from Jordan have you? She got us all worried sick." Nigel and Bug popped in the office after peering in and seeing Max.

"What do you mean she has you worried, none of you know where she is?"

"You two didn't tell him everything?" Bug looked annoyed as he asked, he got tired of the secrets and lies told when the group tried to protect each other, they always seemed to backfire.

"Not yet, I only started filling him in."

"Well, finish Garret, where's my daughter?" Max looked even more worried. "God, please tell me she didn't run!"

"Two days ago, Nigel saw her last, a few hours before we found the bartender's body. We found her phone the next morning in a garbage can." He paused, how the hell did he tell her father this? "Max, she bought a gun. They know it. So on top of her face plastered in police stations and on news broadcasts all over the country…they have U.S. Marshals after her, and A&D status. It isn't going well."

"They what! She's practically a cop, shouldn't she get the same consideration?"

"She ran Max, they didn't have a choice." Woody spoke as the voice of reason, but looked pained to do so.

"Like Hell they didn't! What about you, you're one of them, you couldn't protect her? There has to be something you can do!"

"Listen Max, I'd do anything for her, God knows. But SHE RAN. Okay? All anybody can do for her now is get proof that she's innocent, and hope to God they all think before they shoot. Unless you have any ideas where she might have gone?" Woody ran a hand through his hair. He didn't mean to angry, but he was tired, he was worried, and felt guilty enough without any help.

"You guys find anything else on that Judge?" He tried to make the silence that had fallen upon the room less stifling.

"Not yet mate, I'm afraid there is very little else on our crooked Judge."

"Alright, keep looking. I have to get back to work before they fire me. Any of you hear from Jordan, you call me…and tell her to be safe!" He yelled over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

"Alright, back to work guys. We'll keep looking for her, but for now we just hope she is okay." With a nod to Max, both men walked out the door, leaving only Max and Garret.

"So now you know everything, feel better?" He didn't mean to be as sarcastic and bitter as he was, but he was annoyed that he had the nerve to show up, all worried over Jordan after leaving her months before without a word since.

"Why does it always have to be her? Why is it always Jordan, hasn't she been through enough by now?"

"You'd think. Trouble follows her." Both men were silent for what felt like hours, till a harsh pounding on the door startled both of them.

"Can I help you?" Garret answered angrily, eyeing the crowd of black suit-clad men outside his office.

"Grady, Parker, Lee, and Henderson, U.S. Marshals. We are here to question you and your personnel about Jordan Cavanaugh."

"Of course you are. Which ones do you want to talk to?"

"A Miss Lebowsky, Dr. Townsend, and Dr. M…M…" The agent struggled with the last name on his list.

"Bug, fine. You may as well go into Jordan's office, I'll send Lily in first." Garret was about to close his door when Agent Grady opened his mouth to speak again, a confused expression on his face.

"Down the hall, second door on your left." He said thoroughly annoyed, slamming the door. " Max, get the Hell out of here. It's time for the Inquisition, and you carry with you too much that can't be explained. Disappear again, but don't go to far. We'll get her back, I promise."


	4. The Inquisition

**The Inquisition**

"Ms. Lebowsky, U.S. Marshals Grady, Parker, Lee, and Henderson. Are you ready to begin?"

"As I'll ever be." Lily said nervously. Lily sat in a chair in Jordan's office, the four agents surrounding her, seated or propped on whatever they could find. The leader, Grady, was seated right in front of her, staring straight in her eyes. Parker, off to the side, manned a tape recorder, while the youngest ones, Lee and Henderson had their pens poised ready to write over yellow legal pads.

"Alright. What is the nature of your relationship with Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Um, Friends? I'm not sure what you mean? We're close friends."

"Like sisters?"

"I guess yeah, neither of us have many girlfriends, so we're pretty close."

"So she trusts you?"

"Yeah, I like to think so."

"So where is she?"

"Uh, I don't know." She said taken aback.

"Come on Ms. Lebowsky, you must know."

"No, I don't. She just disappeared. We haven't been in contact with her."

"Alright, where would she go?"

"I, I don't know. She doesn't really have any family. Mother's dead, brother she didn't know well, and he's dead anyway. Her father left months ago, she doesn't even know where he is."

"There has to be someone Ms. Lebowsky." It was obvious he was getting impatient.

"No, we are her family."

"Who is we?"

"Me, Garret, Bug, Nigel, Woody…"

"Woody, as in Detective Hoyt?

"Yeah, they are close, just like the rest of us."

"Alright Ms. Lebowsky, if not who, then where would she go?"

"Sorry, I can't help you. She lived in California for a while, but I don't think she liked it. I don't know what to tell you." She put her hands in the air gesturing that she was out of ideas. The head of the team sighed, and looked stressed.

"Thank you Ms. Lebowsky. You can go."

* * *

"Dr. M…M…M-"

"Just call me Bug, or you'll give yourself a headache."

"Bug?"

"Yeah, I work with bugs, so everyone calls me bug."

"Okay…Bug." It was clear he thought Bug was nuts. "What is your relationship with Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Good Friends, co-workers…"

"She trusts you."

"I don't know if Jordan trusts anybody, but for as much as she does, sure."

"Okay, where is she?"

"Don't know."

"Dr. M-Bug, we aren't going to hurt her, we just need to find her."

"Right you just want to bring her home safe and sound. Anyway, doesn't matter I still don't know where Jordan is."

"Bug, listen. I've got friends in the FBI and immigration. Do you want me to get you sent back to your Asian desert and your Al Quida friends?"

"I was born and raised in Britain, you stupid racist ass!" Bug shouted his standard pissed at raicist comments phrase and left, slamming the office door.

"This is going well," mumbled the agent.

* * *

"Dr. Townsend, let me guess you're a close friend and coworker of Jordan Cavanaugh." Sarcasm seeped through his words.

"Well, mate she'd be my sister if not for blood."

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Sister, mate. Do you sleep with your sister?" Nigel looked annoyed and the agent looked tired.

"Right, so…she trusts you then?"

"As much as she does anyone."

"Okay, does Dr. Cavanaugh suffer from paranoia or schizophrenia, or PCP or something? Why doesn't she trust anyone?"

"Jordan hasn't had an easy life, and she doesn't have too much faith in people any longer. She does what she can to avoid getting hurt. But, us, here, we are family, if she needs to put her trust in someone it will be us."

"Great. So where is she?"

"Sorry, can't help you there mate, she didn't tell us."

"You're her brother, why wouldn't she tell you."

"Because she probably knew this would happen. It is safer for her that none of us know, you people can't find her and kill her."

"We aren't going to kill her, not unless she forces us to."

"Sure, you don't plan on it, you never plan on it, but you're targets have a way of ending up dead. I work in a morgue, I've seen them."

"Alright, Doctor, if you don't know where she is, then where would she go?" The U.S. Marshall uncomfortably dodged Nigel's last comments.

"I don't know. Probably to find proof for the cops that she didn't kill anyone."

"You think she is innocent?" He actually looked surprised, which surprised Nigel.

"I don't think it mate, I know it."

"Haven't you seen the evidence, you're a scientist, surely you have some doubts."

"While the evidence may seem damning to you fools, it still remains, I know Jordan, and I know she wouldn't, couldn't kill anybody, especially not Pollack."

"Why do you say that, why not Pollack?"

"No motive, and besides, she used to sleep with the man, she couldn't gun down a man she had relations with, even the likes of him."

"You didn't like him."

"He used her to get fodder for his stories. I suppose I'm a little protective."

"Would that give you cause to lie to us now?"

"I suppose it would, but I still don't know where she is, I wish I did, I'm getting worried about her."

"What about the bartender?"

"What about him?"

"Do you think she killed him, I mean he was covered in her prints."

"I think she roughed him up, so to speak, then someone else shot him."

"And you believe this based on…"

"Again Jordan couldn't kill anybody. That, and there is that he was shot with a powerful rifle by a sniper. Now, Jordan is capable of quite a lot, God knows, but that, no. Anyway, all of this is irrelevant, you don't care, you just have to find her, dead or alive."

* * *

"Dr. Macy, you are Dr. Cavanaugh's boss?"

"Yes."

"Any other relationship?"

"I don't follow."

"You sleeping with her Macy?"

"No."

"You her friend?"

"Yeah, she is like a daughter or a kid sister, including the pain in the ass part."

"So you must know where she is."

"No, as I'm sure they all told you already, she never told any of us."

"I don't buy it. You are close to her, have almost a paternal relationship, and you expect me to believe she wouldn't tell you where she is going? You aren't worried at all?"

"Of course I'm worried, I want her home, I want her safe, but I can't have either, because we can't find her, just like you people."

"You didn't answer my first question."

"What was it?"

"She'd have to tell you where she was going, wouldn't she?"

"Jordan has an underdeveloped sense of her own importance to people. It doesn't always occur to her that we worry. That and she knows it could get any of us into trouble, and put her in more danger, so no, she won't tell me, or them."

"Okay then. Where do you think she might go?"

"I don't know, she's never been a fugitive before." He bit out sarcastically.

"She needs help, Macy, where would she turn?"

"She wouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"She can't turn to any of us without getting us further involved and deeper in trouble so she won't. She hasn't seen her father for months, so she won't. The detectives don't believe her, except Woody, and what applies to us applies to him. She is on her own gentlemen, she hasn't told us where she is, and she won't. She won't call us for help, email us a file, text message our cells, nothing. She chose to do this on her own, we won't see her again until she can prove her innocence."

"Do you believe she is innocent?"

"Without a doubt in my mind."

"Why?"

"Jordan isn't a killer. She fights to put them to justice."

"What if it was self defense?"

"Right, shooting someone in the back is self defense."

"No, what if…what if he was slapping her around, and he turns for a minute and she takes her chance, could she kill then?"

"I doubt it. Anyway, Pollack could be a dick, but he wouldn't abuse Jordan. So there goes you're theory."

"Okay, doctor, she has no connections anywhere but here in Boston?"

"LA, she lived in LA for a while. I don't think she kept in touch though."

"Okay, who has she dated?"

"Besides Pollack?"

"Yeah, she's a beautiful woman, she must of gotten cozy with a few guys before him."

"Jordan doesn't date much, and when she tries it was usually a disaster.

"How so?"

"Once, her date ended up here the night before the date, another one ended up going to prison. That sort of disaster."

"Dead and prison, sounds like she has back luck."

"Or she's a black widow." Mumbled one of the younger agents.

"Shut-up Lee." The head shot at one of the younger agents before turning back to Garret. "Dr. Macy, no one else special in her life?"

"Jordan didn't tend to get too involved with people, she'd been hurt too many times. She may have come close with a detective, but I don't know. Either way, he won't know where she is either."

"Who is this detective?" The agent looked suddenly more interested in the whole thing.

"Me." Said a voice from the door. Woody stood, the door half open, looking exhausted and worried.

"You're done with me." Garret said it as a statement, not a question, and promptly left.

* * *

"I don't remember you're name Detective-"

"Hoyt, Woodrow Hoyt."

"Okay Hoyt, tell us about Dr. Cavanaugh."

"Let's cut through the bullshit. I don't know where she is, or where she'd go outside Boston. What I can tell you is that she is chasing whatever leads she can find in Pollack's murder."

"Let me guess, you think she is innocent."

"I never doubted it."

"Alright, what leads does she have?"

"All I know is that she was looking into some Judge in D.C. I think Pollack was investigating him for corruption or something, maybe he got in too deep."

"And they killed the reporter and framed the Doctor to keep it quiet?"

"Yeah, I think that was the direction she was headed in."

"Okay, Hoyt, let's make a deal. I'll promise to look into the Judge, if you promise to tell me the truth about everything I ask you. Sound fair?"

"Can I trust you?"

"I may be looking for your girlfriend, but if she is innocent I want her as safe as the rest of you. I don't want to waste my time hunting down an innocent woman."

"Alright. What do you want to know?" Woody didn't bothering correcting that Jordan wasn't his girlfriend, that she wasn't really his anything anymore. And he was hesitant to feed them information, but figured it was Jordan's only chance to come back safely.

"Does she trust you?"

"She did, I'm not so sure anymore. I think, maybe."

"Why wouldn't she trust you anymore?"

"I hurt her…twice."

"Oh? How?"

"Do you really need me to go into this?"

"Anything that can help us get in her head."

Woody mumbled something that the agent couldn't quite make out at this. What he'd actually said was that the guy would run screaming if he ever got into Jordan's head.

"What did you say detective?"

"Nothing, just thinking aloud…What did you ask me." Woody smiled sweetly, attempting to cover his comment.

"I broke her heart." After seeing their questioning looks he went into more detail. "I rejected her after she made advances." He tried to keep it as simple as possible, but he had a feeling he just sounded like an idiot.

"So, happens to the best of us."

"Yeah, well, I pursued her first."

"I'm confused now, why did you reject her then?"

"Cause I'm an idiot." The agent was taken aback at the anger in Woody's ocean blue eyes, and surprised that it seemed directed at himself, not him.

"Sore subject, fine, we'll drop it. I don't think it will help much anyway. Aside from having issues with people, anything else you can tell us about her?"

"She'll find the truth at any cost, to catch a killer."

"What if she is the killer?"

"She's not."

"What if she was, hypothetically?"

"She's not, and she'd never be, so it is irrelevant."

"How the hell can you people be so sure? You're law enforcement, you know every killer's family says the same damn thing!"

"Jordan may have a lot of problems, but being a cold-blooded killer, that's not one of them." Woody was getting tired of this questioning, tired of hearing Jordan being called a killer, and his tone belied that feeling.

"What kind of problems does she have then?"

"She doesn't trust anybody but the people here, she doesn't like to get too close to people, she's terrified of getting hurt, she can't get past her mother's murder, it happened when she was ten, she can't get past three decades of lies from her father, that she had a brother she never knew, who she saw kill himself. She's been attacked, kidnapped, drugged, held hostage, and nearly killed enough times to keep my nightmares very vivid. She won't open up because she's afraid if she does, if she's happy, it will all blow up in her face. And guess what it has." With ever item Woody added to that list, his heart rate and blood pressure rose, until he was seething by the end. Rehashing everything she'd been through made him angrier and angrier, that she was suffering again, and that he was part of that suffering she been put through. Leaving the agents open mouthed at the extensive list, Woody got up and left, not bothering to ask if they were done with him.


	5. Holly Hooker

I momentarily return from summer job hell to give you a new chapter. Updates will be fairly sporadic through the summer, I'll try to do at least every other week. Hope you all enjoy. As always my undying gratitude to all those who sent criticism.

* * *

Jordan crawled out of her trunk, stiff from a night of scrunching into that tiny space, and still feeling exhausted. How much sleep can you really get when you are squeezed into a trunk? Now that J.D.'s apartment turned up nothing she had only one choice, try and get into his office and on his computer. How the hell was she going to accomplish that? She didn't even know where the newspaper office was located. Then she had a thought, Library. She had passed a rather imposing looking library on her way from his apartment.

Before starting the car, Jordan opened the bag she'd brought and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans, and a clean top. If she couldn't shower on a regular basis, she would at least make her best attempt at wearing clean clothes. After applying deodorant, and fresh makeup in the hopes that she wouldn't look like a fugitive, or a zombie, she pulled out a wig. It was ashort bob in a deep cherry red, part of a Halloween costume years ago. Garret had them dress up for the annual Halloween party the morgue hosted on its roof, the perfect place right?

Jordan had gone as a hooker on a bet with Nigel, and she hadn't been alone for a second that night. Cops, other M.E.s, and various other personnel hung around her, admiring the lack of clothing she was wearing- a black mini-skirt, leather boots that went to her knees, and a leopard-print top. Poor Woody hadn't taken his eyes off her all night, and wicked part of her loved that. Nigel had gladly handed her fifty bucks, commenting that he would've paid a lot more to see her dressed like that. Garret had shaken his head in amusement and told her that she just provided wet-dream material for half of the Boston PD. She just shrugged at all of them, the costume fit her off-the-wall style well.

Now the wig was for an entirely different purpose, and she just hoped it would make her unrecognizable, as they were looking for a brunette. She also decided until she got back to Boston her name was Cameron Gosling, better to be prepared. So, finally ready, she started the Daytona, and drove in the direction she remembered the library being.

It didn't take her long to find it, it was huge building reminiscent of the ancient Greek temples, as was much of the American government's old architecture. Inside was just as intimidating, huge, huge area. She hadn't been in a library since med school, after countless long nights spent hunched over at library tables, she vowed to avoid them for the rest of her life. If she wanted to read she could order it online, or stop in at Barnes and Noble.

She followed the multitude of signs and found the computer lab area, on the second floor, lining a corridor. Grabbing one of the many available, as nobody was there in the morning of a weekday, she immediately went to the internet. After googling and mapquesting the newspaper office, she immediately went into the libraries databases and began searching Proquest, LexisNexis, the New York Times and Washington Post archives, and a half a dozen other engines for information on the judge. She printed out near fifty pages, and after paying the small fee, left to find food and the newspaper office.

Food was certainly the easier of the two, a Subway was nearby, so she grabbed a sandwich and an iced tea. After choking down the chewy bread and lukewarm cold cuts, she headed out to find the office, which wasn't the hard part. The hard part was deciding what to do after she got there. She decided to take a walk through the place after using an old pickpocket trick and stealing the name badge off some woman's lapel, she placed it on backwards "accidentally", and started walking through like she owned the place.

Mail room, bathroom, printing room, which looked huge and dangerous. On to the second floor. Ah, here were the real offices, which were actually glorified cubicles. Welcome to the life of a reporter. There were a few actual offices, but they were only for the editors, and owner, though why the owner or owners needed an office was beyond her, it isn't like they actually did any work. Everyone else was buzzing, including a couple of very nervous-looking interns, and one extremely self-assured intern. He would get booted soon enough she thought evilly.

Leaving the building with little for her trouble she got back into her car and parked across the street, with a clear view of the office. Time for surveillance. Once she was more familiar with how the place ran she would be able to actually do something, for now she would be patient. So she got herself comfortable, adjusted the seat, and began reading through the papers she'd printed out, making notations here and there.

That was Jordan's days for the next week and a half. She'd get up and go to the newspaper office, or the library if she was running low on reading material, and then the office, and wait all day and read through her information. By the end of that week, she had enough material amassed on that Judge that any investigative journalist would be proud. Unfortunately the material alone didn't prove anything, or even say all that much, so much of it found its way to a nearby dumpster.

* * *

"Simmons!" 

"Agent Grady, what can I do for you?"

"Your turn in interrogation."

"Alright," she began as she followed him to one of the two rooms they had hijacked. "I won't be able to help you much, I didn't know Jordan very well, and she definitely didn't like or trust me."

"An outside opinion of this woman will only help, trust me, those people are closer to each other than I am to my blood relatives."

"You don't have to tell me, I dated one."

"So I've heard, tell me what happened between you and Hoyt?"

"Dated a few months, but he is still hung up on Jordan, always will be."

"When did you break up?"

"Few days ago, during the investigation. He thought I was going at her too hard."

"Okay, Detective, what can you actually tell me about Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Um, she has issues. With her mothers murder, with her father, I don't really know what about. I don't really know much, just that she has issues."

"Anything else?"

"She's brilliant with a body." At the Marshals raised eye and smile, she continued, "Dead body, Grady. She is maybe the best ME I have ever worked with. She doesn't give up until she knows the truth, even if she ends up doing part of the police work, whi I think she actually enjoys."

"Good with dead bodies, had lots of issues…what the hell is up with this broad?" At the choice of noun, Lu gave him a scathing look.

"I wish I could help you more, I honestly don't know what to tell you. Did you talk to Woody, he could help you."

"Yeah, got pretty much a big Fuck off from him. Get the feeling his a bit protective. Speaking of, Dr, Cavanaugh, is she sleeping with her coworkers?"

"You Garret, Nigel and Bug?"

"And Hoyt."

"Definitely not the first three, like you said there are all just really close. Woody I don't know, I think at some point. I asked him once, and he said nothing."

"Generally affirmative. You still dated him?"

"Yeah, stupid, I see that now, but he seemed over her then." It got suddenly very quiet and uncomfortable in the room.

"Thanks you can go now." As she got up and left, he followed her out, to begin bellowing orders at his three subordinates.

"Henderson and Lee grab a couple of their uniforms and begin digging through the BPD files. I want every case Cavanaugh's name appears in, even in passing, even that she was just a Doc on. Then pull out every file that has the name of her mother, father brother, the three docs, the woman, and the cop. Three piles, one for the ones where she was ME, one where she was victim, witness, or suspect, and one that mentions her mother, father, brother or coworkers. Now, fast, move it. Parker, you and me are going to interview every detective she ever worked a case with. Captain, start sending them in Interrogation room B."

"Man do you know how many files that is? Four MEs, and a cop? They won't fit in one room, we'll need two."

"Then we'll use two, just get them." Parker and Lee looked completely mortified as they left the room in search of uniforms to help them sort.

That was how their investigation proceeded for the next week and a half. After they finished interviewing cops, they plowed through every file with Jordan' s name mentioned, or that of the eight people closest to her. Most of the ones where they were investigators were easily set aside, and not valuable, but that still left them with four dozen by the end of the week, and finally down to about twenty after three more days.

* * *

"Dr. M! Dr. M!" Nigel called to Garret as he tried to catch up with him. 

"What's wrong Nigel?" Garret somehow managed to sound impatient and look concerned at the same time.

"Bounty." Was all Nigel said. It was all he needed to say, they had all been concerned about a bounty offer for the last few days.

"Damn!" Garret cursed quietly before turning and leaving Nigel alone in the hallway.

Nigel, meanwhile headed back to his office to continue hacking his way through the east coast looking for some trace of Jordan. He had had little luck, or rather none. His only success was discovering the bounty offer put up for Jordan of 20,000 dollars. High, but it could have been much worse, and it would be a few days before it really made it to the circuit and hunters started biting. He was hoping they'd have Jordan back by then.

Feeling increasingly tired and defeated, he opted instead for a coffee break. He hadn't been sleeping well since the mess started, first desperately working to clear Jordan, then desperately trying to find her. Even when he did lay down, worry often kept him up. He and Jordan were best friends, as Garret had said they were thick as thieves, and he worried not only about her safety, but also her sanity. He more than anyone knew what she'd been through, and he didn't know how much more she could take, or rather how much more she could lose, before fell.

Her mother and the brother she never knew were both dead, her father had dropped off the map, two of her primary relationships were in a mess, and now J.D. was dead. Nigel knew she wasn't really in love with him, she'd told him that herself, the same night she'd told him that she'd cheated on J.D. with Woody. And the same night she told him the putts rejected her again. He was the only one who actually knew the mess her romantic life had become. He was also the only who knew how betrayed she'd felt after the fiasco with Garret hiding evidence, and his drinking.

He mused this over while he sipped his coffee and examined the pictures on the fridge. Most had been put there by Lily, who wanted to break room to be more homey and welcoming. It worked well, it made this place more their private little domain, and reminded during particularly hard cases that they weren't alone. It wasn't working at the moment, because Jordan was alone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Finishing his sludge he ran a hand tiredly through his hair and ambled back to his office, and back to searching.

* * *

Garret meanwhile, sat in his office, head in his hands, worried and aggravated from the interrogation, punching the buttons on his phone with ten times the necessary force. 

"Walcott."

"Renee, what the hell is with the bounty?"

"Garret," she said filling in the blank. "Do you realize you didn't even call me this much when we were dating?" They had both lost track of how many calls he had made to her since this fiasco had started, most demanding answers or begging for help.

"What is with the bounty?" he asked again completely ignoring her statement.

"It's normal for fugitives Garret, it was really only a matter of time."

"There is nothing normal about this case. This is Jordan involved."

"I know Garret, we've had this conversation, several times, I'm doing what I can, but it isn't much."

"That isn't it Renee. Why is the brass pushing so hard to find her? Marshals and a bounty this early isn't normal, not unless the vic or suspect is high profile. Not to mention while they try to so hard to catch her, the press is barely biting, they are in the dark. All they know is that Jordan is a murder suspect on the run, Pollack's case is being completely hushed up. What's going on?"

"I don't know Garret, I'm not being told much either. They think I'm too close do to my history with the M.E.'s office, or rather you."

"Great…let me know if you hear anything?"

"For the eight time, I promise, but don't hold your breath." With that last statement, they both hung up and Garret rested his head in his hands

Where the hell was she? As if on cue, Garret checked his email to find a message from an unfamiliar address: That was what Jordan had named herself at that Halloween party a few years ago, when she came dressed to win a bet. Nigel told her to come as a hooker, and when she turned him down, he told her she was just scared and bet her fifty bucks she couldn't go through with it. He lost, very happily. Jordan strolled out of her office, wearing knee high boots, black mini skirt, leopard-print strapless top, and short red hair.

Nigel, Bug and he had been milling around, already in their costumes, when they saw her, and proceeded to stare for what must have been five minutes. Lily came out of the bathroom and laughed when she saw them, high fiving Jordan as she passed. Nigel promptly handed over the money, telling her it was worth every penny and more. Then their coworkers began arriving, and spent the night making sure Jordan was never alone, and never without a drink. Woody stood close by her the whole night, both to enjoy the view, and to make sure none of the clowns fawning over her laid an non-platonic hand on her. Garret smiled to himself, now that many of Boston's finest had pictures of Jordan from that party in their lockers, partly because she was a friend, but mostly because she was hot. He also knew they had never gone through as much ice before or since that year.

Nervously he clicked the read button and opened the email. The two seconds it took to read were two of the most comforting of his life.

"Garret- I'm fine. Don't worry. - Holly" He deleted the email and exited his office.

Entering trace he grabbed Bug and Nigel and pulled them close to him.

"I got an email from Holly." You could never be too careful.

"Holly?" They both looked completely confused.

"Hooker, Holly Hooker." Realization dawned then on both.

"Oh, and how is Holly?"

"Fine, says not to worry about her."

"Right like that is so easy."

"I know. At least she emailed finally."

"Who?" Lily had entered the room, looking curiously at the group of men.

"Holly Hooker, love, you remember her don't you?" Lily's eyes widened in realization, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Garret cut her off.

"Says she's fine. Not to worry."

"Right, easy for her to say." They stood together silently for a moment, all thinking about their missing friend. All were worried about her getting back alive, though Nigel couldn't help but smile, that was the best damn bet he ever made.

"Back to work." Garret said breaking the silence and leaving for his office, but first whispering to Nigel to make the email disappear.

The next week an a half passed slowly for the group, every three days Garret would get an email from Holly Hooker, with a quick message to say she was still living. He'd pass it on to his friends, and Jordan's father. It was a toss-up who showed more relief, Woody or Max, but he could tell the emails were good for Max' blood pressure and Woody's sanity.

* * *

"Why isn't she dead yet?" The egomaniac took another long suck on his cigarette, enjoying the smooth taste, and the fact that it was probably killing him. He loved that people despised his habit, theirs looks of disgust when he lit up in a public place amused him. He didn't care that it was killing him, whenever he went down, it would be with the knowledge that he had his aged-spotted fist wrapped around the city of Boston, with his fingertips touching New York and Washington D.C. 

"Nobody can seem to find her, sir. The Marshals are looking and they just released the bounty, but it's taking time."

"What have a told you about excuses?" He asked as he watched the man in front of him squirm as he always did under his superior's stern, judgmental gaze.

"You don't want to hear them sir."

"Exactly, and what is it that I do want to hear?" He felt as if he was lecturing a child, his employees are not children they should need lectures, they shouldn't be as pathetic as this man.

"Solutions, sir."

"Then why aren't you giving me any?"

"The bounty sir, we're hoping the bounty will speed things up. And we have our own men hunting her sir."

"Good." He was almost impressed, the idiot actually thought to send some of his own after the doctor, it only took him a few days to figure that out. "Do we have what the reporter compiled?"

"Everything from his home and office. Hard drive wiped."

"How close did he get?"

"Too close."

He nodded. "You can go now."

After his subordinate left, he dialed a number waiting for the ring.

"Blevins."

"Commissioner, what did we discuss earlier?"

"The chief and I arranged for four Marshals, they are here searching. What's the problem?"

"They haven't found her yet."

"They need time, they aren't magicians."

"I don't care, they need to move faster."

"What do you expect me to do?"

"Find some way to light a fire under their incompetent asses and tell the same to the chief about the BPD!"

"Consider it done." The director said uncomfortably before hanging up. Slamming the phone down, he took another long, sweet drag, he lived for conversations like that. There is nothing more relaxing that bending people to your will, except maybe a tumbler of twenty-five year old Irish whiskey with a twist of lemon. He leaned back in his plush leather chair, satisfied for the moment.


	6. Chasing Jordan

Apologies on the lack of updates, but I seriously have the summer job from Hell, and it leaves me wanting to do very little. I think I will attempt to finish the story before I update again, and then just update in bulk. Before the summer is over it will be done. Thank you to Beauty for the reviews. Enjoy!

* * *

Today was the day, Jordan had figured out how to get into the paper and poke around J.D.'s office without getting caught. She would go inside again just before seven o'clock, and hide in the storage room on the first floor. They would all be gone by 7:30, and then she would leave the closet and start her search. Then of course she would have to climb back into the closet till morning when she could get out again; she couldn't risk triggering an alarm by opening a door after closing time.

She had actually developed the idea days ago they had a habit of randomly hanging around forever except Saturdays; none of them ever wanted to hang around Saturdays. So she waited for Saturday, hoping she would find something to nail the judge and let her go back home. She was as antsy as could be, damn near ready to jump out of her skin. She was so close to getting the hell out of this mess, and back to Boston, she couldn't sit still much longer.

Lucky for her the numbers on the clock were changing not a moment too soon. She stopped tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, and hopped out of the car, attaching the stolen badge to her top. Again she strolled through like she owned the place, pretending in her head it was the morgue, and another day at work. Slowing down as she approached the end of the hall, Jordan looked around and dodged into the storage closet. She moved around the room staring at the mess that was somebody's idea of organization. Boxes and boxes of files littered the room, and on top of the boxes, aside from more boxes, were random loose files.

"Jesus how the hell do these people find anything?" She asked out loud before realizing how hypocritical the statement was considering her desk.

Peering out the door at a quarter to eight, she left, glancing to her left and right, making sure she was alone. Making her way up to the second floor, she began zigzagging through the cubicles.

"Barry, Zinfeld, Strauss, McCormick, Gilmore, Graham, Steinberg, Woodward, Marlow, God where is it. Zeus, Zeus? That's different. Ah! Yes, Pollack. Okay, J.D. what did you leave me." Flipping on the computer, she sat down and began pulling open drawers, pawing through papers, searching through a box of tapes. Looking down, she backed up and pulled open the thin center drawer, and began shifting papers, until she came across a couple of photographs. The top one was of her, smiling shyly. She remembered it, he begged her to let him take it, so she complied, reluctantly. The second was of the two of them, she had her arms around his next, and he had his arms wrapped around her. They were looking at each other and smiling, and it looked like they were in the morgue. Who took this? Her question was answered when she flipped it over, reading the print on the back.

"I don't often see her smile like this. Don't hurt her. – Nigel." He had made her happy, and somehow she had made him happy to. He'd even be willing to forgive her cheating on him with Woody, but she had thrown everything away for Woody. Woody, who had promptly stamped on her heart again, damn him. She wasn't sure what she had planned when she called him, or asked him to be her date to Lily's wedding. She just knew she missed him, missed what they had, and she thought that maybe she wanted it back, wanted him back.

"I'm so sorry J.D. I'll find them…I'll find them." She whispered as she wiped tears from her eyes, and put the pictures in her pocket. After cracking his password, which wasn't hard, it was the same at his paper in Boston, which he had told her, she pulled open the explorer window and began searching through his files, all three of them. Somebody had cleaned out most of his drive; she opened the garbage bin, and found the same.

"Damn it; the bastards were already here." She wouldn't be able to find anything without a professional, she had no idea about anything past the virtual garbage can. She leaned back surveying the office, searching for something she'd missed. Then the idea popped in her head, and she smiled, reaching under the chair, feeling around.

"Ah, there it is. Same tricks Pollack." She said as she pulled out a tiny black case, sliding it open and pulling out a key. The magnet glued to the back kept the case attached to the chair, now all she needed was to figure out what the key went to. So somewhat satisfied she climbed back into the closet, prepared to wait till morning. She didn't have to wait long, the sun was rising already, they'd start piling in soon.

The key was obviously to a safety deposit box, but which out of the multitude of banks? She sat in her car, outside the newspaper office mulling this, and preparing to leave the spot her car had been sitting in for the past day, when the sky began falling. Well, not literally, but that was her first thought as huge drops of rain began pouring out of the clouds, hard, heavy, and definitely not stopping.

"Great, now traffic will be that much better." She grumbled as she began pulling her car into the D.C. traffic. She'd go back to Pollack's apartment, he had to be paying a bill for the box. As soon as she found the bill she'd find the bank and location, how she'd get into the box was another bridge she'd cross when she came to it.

She found the bill, after tearing through the rain, but getting soaked anyway. It didn't take her long to find the mail, as scattered as it was, and when she did she was very surprised. It was in a Commerce Bank, in Manhattan. Box number 4027.

"What the hell do you have that you need to hide in another state?" She asked no one. Folding up the bill and putting it in her pocket.

"I guess I'm going to New York…" She said quietly as she left his apartment, heading quickly out to her waiting car. Her hand had barely grazed the door handle when she heard a loud bang, and felt a bullet whiz by narrowly missing her shoulder. Keeping her head down she flew into the car and started the engine as fast as she could, throwing the car into reverse as she tried to pull her car out of the long line of tightly parallel parked cars. Bullets continued flying as she tried to duck her head while steering. Desperately she grabbed her own weapon, pointed it out the window in the direction of the shots and squeezed the trigger three times. She hadn't bothered trying to aim, wanting them to simply stop shooting long enough to let her go, but she knew she'd hit someone when she heard a yelp and a curse. The loud sound was still ringing in her ears as she sped away, the gunshots trailing off. Several miles and crazy turns later she finally stopped to take a breath, and could feel herself shaking as she parked the car.

"No, not yet." She said to herself, "You don't get to cry until you get yourself out of this mess. Get it together, Jordan. Damnit." She hissed after her flogging as she notice for the first time, the blood on her upper arm.

* * *

Meanwhile the past week and a half had been hell on Woody. He couldn't sleep, he'd woken up every night his heart pounding in his ears, images of Jordan splattered in blood, holding a handgun, a look of pure horror plastered on her face. He'd been avoiding Lu the whole time, praying that the U.S. Marshals continued using her as their personal liaison. Lu in turn has been avoiding the morgue like the plague, knowing until Jordan was safely home, she would be unwelcome there. This was another reason that Woody was constantly ending up there, that and to just sit in her office.

He didn't know why he kept going back, why he still cared so much. He had rejected her twice and was dating another woman, she had been arrested for killing her boyfriend. There wasn't anything there to give him the hint that she was interested, except that look. That look in her eyes when she asked for help, and when he told her that he couldn't help them put her away. He didn't even know what was going on in his head, what the hell had he had with Lu? Was it worth so little that he could throw it away so easily?

Yes, he had made that decision, heat of the moment of no, he had been leaning that way for a while. Lu was a rebound no question about that. Damn it, why did he have to bring her into this? How did he and Jordan get this messed up?

"Woody!"

Woody turned startled by Garret, nearly tumbling off the chair in Jordan's office as he turned away from the window he had been staring at.

"Damn, Woody I have been calling your name for five minutes, where the hell were you?"

"Where do you think?" He had righted himself, and had gotten up and walked over to where Garret stood leading against the door.

"Chasing Jordan would me my first guess."

"Can't stop can I, even when it's just in my head…"

"What the hell did you two do to each other?" Garret had had it with to two of them. He'd seen Woody chase Jordan for years, getting closer to her than any man in a very long time, but always still holding him at a distance. He'd seen Jordan devastated after he rejected her attempt to close the distance. He'd also seen the tango they did while Jordan was dating Pollack, and Jordan heartbroken again after his second rejection. He had no idea why they hurt each other they way they did, well, that was a lie. He understood Jordan keeping him at a distance, but nothing after that.

"I…I…God Dr. M. I just don't know." He looked defeated, and Garret almost felt sorry for him, almost, if he hadn't hurt Jordan twice…

"Can I ask you something Woody?"

"Sure…"

"I get you rejecting her the first time, Jordan, well that wasn't they way she should have done that, but you screwed up to. I don't get what happened after that between you two."

"I don't follow."

"While she was dating Pollack, you seemed interested in her. You went away to the B&B, came back, she dumped Pollack, and then she was heartbroken again. You rejected her again, I know that…"

"She didn't tell you about the Inn?" He was surprised, Garret and Jordan were close, he figured at least he'd know.

"No, she was troubled when she got back though."

"You aren't going to like this…"

"Woody?"

"Jordan and I, we uh, we shared a room at the Inn, and uh, we, you know."

"You slept with her!"

"Yeah."

"She cheated on Pollack?"

"Yeah, without many reservations too."

"Then she dumped him for you, and you said no?" Garret hoped there was more to it than that, or else he may end up smacking Woody.

"Yeah, I didn't want to be her rebound." Woody said this so quietly he nearly whispered. Garret would have yelled at him if he hadn't looked so pathetic.

"You realize you must of done a number on her head with that right?"

"Would do you mean?"

"Woody, this is Jordan, think about it."

"I know she isn't good with rejection, but she seems to be okay."

"You're an idiot. Woody, think about it. You rejected her twice Woody. She finally got the courage to let herself be in love, and you rejected her twice."

Woody just sat in desperate silence.

"Were you trying to hurt her?"

"No, I don't know, maybe. I'm so screwed up right now I don't even know."

"You probably hurt Lu too."

"I know."

"Go figure out what you want Woody, try to do that before she comes back." Woody nodded looking completely lost and sighed. Garret shook his head as he turned to leave, what the hell had they done to each other?

"And Woody?"

"Yeah?" He prepared for another verbally beating.

"She will come back, she always does." With that Garret left Woody to himself. That was the first time in a week of hanging out in Jordan's office that anybody had come in. Woody figured Garret was probably right, but he was still afraid she'd come back in handcuffs, or worse, a body bag.

* * *

Lu's week hadn't been much better, the Cavanaugh Clan, as they had taken to calling Jordan's families, blood and morgue, had been involved in way too many cases to make this sorting assignment humane in any country. On top of that she actually missed her now, ex-boyfriend, and he was avoiding her, so she didn't even get to see him. She had been avoiding the morgue since Jordan fled, which under normal circumstances would have been incredibly difficult being a homicide detective, but circumstances being what they were, namely her locked in an interrogation room pushing paper, made it very easy.

Until today at least. The Marshals didn't need her anymore, now that they had finished the grunt work, so she had caught a case. The case involved a very dead middle-aged man who was at the morgue being cut into by Dr. Townsend. It couldn't have gone to any of the other handful that didn't know Jordan that well? Damn it! Grumbling and dreading the experience, she climbed into her car, and began the short drive to the morgue.

Dodging everyone and everything she could, she slunk into autopsy bay 3, feeling like she was doing something very wrong. God, how did they do that? How did these people make her feel like a traitorous, scheming, bitch for doing her job. She didn't know them that well, really, yet they made her feel this way. She was mulling this over as she approached Nigel.

"Dr. Townsend, do you have anything for me?"

"Hello Detective. TOD somewhere between 2 and 4 this morning. Mr. Jones here was not a healthy man, if this didn't kill him a heart attack would have in a matter of days. Afraid he ate way too many fatty foods, as you can clearly see." Nigel said gesturing to 400lb man on the table.

"So what did kill him?"

"His wife is my guess. Looks like somebody took any iron skillet to his head. I found traces of iron that is the exact alloy they tend to use in those things. Gave him a rather nasty bump it did."

"When will you have the report ready for me?"

"Give me a couple hours, I'll fax it over."

"Thanks Nigel." She stopped in her tracks, realizing she had addressed him as a friend would, and wondering if now she would get another verbal battering.

"Of course Detective." Nigel paused considering the almost-frightened look on her face with concern, before speaking again. "Listen, I know the lot of us must have given you quite the working over, at least verbally, over Jordan, but we don't hate you Lu. We are just worried, and you are the most logical person to take it out on."

"Thanks for the pep talk Nigel, but I think Dr. Macy wants my blood now."

"Look love, Garret is maybe a tad to protective of Jordan, we all tend to be, considering everything she's been through, but he is all bark as far as you are concerned."

"Well, he should bark less, I'm just doing my job. I don't want Jordan hurt, but if she did kill J.D. Pollack-"

"She didn't I promise you."

"I know you need to believe that Nigel, but for arguments sake, if she did, we need to find her and get her off the street, just think if she had been anybody else-"

"But she isn't, doesn't she deserve the same consideration a cop would get?"

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of weird, the brass is really pushing to catch her."

"Hence all the worried people around here."

She nodded, "I have to go now, I'd still like to avoid Garret…thanks Nigel."

"No problem love, and remember we don't bite." She nodded and left thinking to herself, _Yeah, you keep telling yourself that_.

That had gone well she decided as she got back in her car to head back to the station, Lily had even said hello as she passed. So if they don't hate her anymore, that why did Woody still seem to hate her? He avoided her like she was the rebirth of the Bubonic plague, and refused to look at her, unless catching her eyes by accident. Shaking her head, as if to shake away thoughts of Woody, she focused on the road and getting back the station. She'd check in with the Marshals and see if they got any leads yet, which was unlikely. After combing through those files, harassing a few more of Jordan's coworkers, and commenting on what a nutjob she was, they had very little to their credit. They had finally decided to check out the judge Woody had mentioned, the one they had promised him they would check out. Oh well she thought, probably for the best anyway, as long as they didn't find Jordan, there was a good chance she was still alive.


	7. Fighting the Fire

Jordan dapped at the blood on her arm with a tissue; the bullet just scrapped her, she wouldn't need medical attention, thank god. They had found her, the judges mercenaries had found her. She hadn't had an encounter since they killed the bartender in Boston, damn. She was glad she bought that gun, she'd shot someone, but she knew it was probably just a flesh wound, she wasn't aiming, it couldn't have been a very good hit. New York suddenly looked much better than it had, would they follow her there? Did they even know that was where she was going? They knew she had the Daytona now, she'd have to ditch it, but where? And how the hell was she supposed to get to New York, if she had no car?

She was driving herself nuts, her head was spinning, her arm was throbbing, and she was still shaking. She pushed her hands through her hair till her nails touched her scalp, and leaned into the steering wheel, willing herself to calm down, to relax. It didn't work so well. Her arm still throbbed, though that probably wouldn't go away soon, and she was still shaking, but her head no longer felt like it would spin off her shoulders. New York, she'd go to New York as quick as she could and get into that box before she was killed or caught. Jesus, caught. She was afraid of being caught and sent to prison.

She didn't allow herself to think of this before, but now the knowledge that she had likely just ruined her life was slamming into her full force.

"No! No, No, No, Damnit! I don't have time to loose it. Not now. Later, not now. Damn it, calm down!" Head in her hands once again, she took deep breaths, pushing aside any feelings, and going back to automaton phase. No feeling meant no pain, worry, or fear, so she would ignore every feeling that would pop up. She could do this.

She did, and that was likely the only reason she found herself stepping off a train into Manhattan. She had ditched the car at the train station, they wouldn't be able to figure out which train she took until she was already there, at least. All she took with her was her backpack, which had her gun, a stack of papers from her marathon of research, the bank bill, and a sweatshirt. Everything she left in the car, they could have it, she couldn't carry it, and didn't care anyway.

She hailed a cab, and took a trip that cost her half of the money she had left. She hesitated as she examined the bank's entrance, how was she going to get them to let her in that box? Looking around she noticed a CVS nearby, and an idea popped in her head. She darted across the street as the light changed and the little person flashed on signaling the crowd of awaiting pedestrians. She melted into the crowd of 9-5s escaping the office on their lunch breaks.

She felt terrible doing this, but unfortunately she didn't have much choice. She followed the sign to the safety deposit boxes, darting down the stairs, around the corner to the help desk.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I need to open a safety deposit box."

"Name and number?" No woman on earth looked more bored than this one.

"J.D. Pollack is the name, but I don't know the number."

"If it isn't your box, then I am afraid we can't open it."

"I know, I know, but he just died, and, he left the key."

"Are you his wife?"

"No, his girlfriend."

"Did you cosign for the box?" She was obviously getting impatient.

"No, I didn't know about it." She was getting nervous.

"Then you'll need to produce a death certificate and proof you're his next of kin." Time to turn on the tears.

"There is no way you can do it now, it's just…I have been running around all week trying to get things ready, and I am having a very hard time with this…He left me this letter with the key, he was a reporter, he knew his last story might get him killed, but he didn't drop it! Why didn't he drop it? Damn it, I'm sorry, I'm just…" Jordan was crying now, juggling tissues, while tossing the made up letter at the woman, hoping she'd cave. "I can't believe he's gone." She whimpered pitifully. God she felt awful, but she was desperate, and those tears weren't all fake. The letter was though. She had gone into the CVS grabbed a good pen and some nice stationary, and wrote a letter from J.D. saying he was on a dangerous story and wanted to make sure that she got her anniversary gift. It was as sapping and saccharine as she could make it.

"Alright, alright, honey, just calm down now. You have the key?" Jordan would have be irritated at the obvious pity in the woman's eyes if she hadn't depended on it.

"Right here." She said, now toning it down, away went the tissues and the tears slowed and became silent. Jordan could never cry on cue before, but at this point, with everything boiling inside her, it wasn't hard to dredge up tears.

"Alright, sign here please." Jordan sign the form, calling herself Katie Donaldson.

"Come with me, the form says you are box 43, that is one of our smaller ones." She followed the woman to a huge vault, it's walls lined with numbered boxes.

"Over here. Put you key in." She put her key in, as the woman did the same, one turning after the other.

"Thank you." She told the woman as she removed her key and walked away. Jordan waited until she was gone, and then pulled out the box. It contained an envelope, heavy and thick, laden with evidence Jordan hoped. She shoved the box back in and shut the door, removing the key and shoving her ring back on her finger. It was her mother's engagement ring, her father had given it to her when she graduated med school. She breathed deeply and allowed her tears to flow again, calling up images of J.D.

She thanked the woman again, showing off her hand, to reduce any suspicions she might have harbored, and tearfully left the bank. But, once she got out, she almost couldn't stop the tears, once she let her feelings come back it was hard shove them away again. Finally gaining control of herself, she began wandering down the street until she came across a Wendy's, figuring that would be the safest place to squat while she examined the papers.

Sucking up a strawberry shake to stave off the heat that comes with a city in the late spring, Jordan nervously pulled out the papers. This was it; if these didn't yield anything, she was completely screwed. She was a bit puzzled. They were on, not just the one judge, but two others, Murphy and Sansom, the former in Boston, the latter in New York. She had heard the names in some of the other stuff she had read, but that wasn't what puzzled her, the papers also mentioned a lawyer, Henry Calamae, also stationed in Manhattan.

_Son of a Bitch! _She got it, it finally dawned on her. The lawyer was the center of the syndicate of judges. When one of the judges got a payment for a verdict, the money wouldn't go to him, but Calamae. Calamae would then pay a _different_ judge, after taking a cut for himself. The payments would never match to the judge who delivered the verdict, That is why nobody had figured it out before. They all worked together to twist the system.

The papers suddenly made much more sense. Bank statements from Calamae, Murphy and the Boston judge, and lists of trials the judges had overseen, with a few agendas. Damn, no wonder they killed Pollack, and were still after her, he got on to their little scheme. But it would be complete, or enough until the bank statement from Sansom rounded off the bunch. Several of the trials were missing also, it wasn't enough yet.

It was enough though. She threw out the rest of the shake and quickly exited the Wendy's, walking faster than she had been before, making for the nearest Kinko's or Staples. Low and behold, American consumerism never fails, she found a Kinko's only a few blocks down. She photocopied the papers three times, and bought a package of manila envelopes. She addressed one to Lu, hoping she'd get the point, and maybe end the chase, the second went to Garret, and the third would go to Woody. It wasn't near enough yet, but with four people searching it was only a matter of time before she'd be cleared. Using the last of her money to send the packages, she had nothing to do, but walk. And walk she did, no where in particular, just to give her something to distract herself.

This is how she came across a headline in the New York Times. The simple sentence sent chills down her spine, and bile churning in her stomach.

"Man Found Shot Outside Dead Reporter's Apartment Building."

Hands shaking she pulled loose change from her pocket, struggling to feed the right amount into the machine, before it all fell out of her quaking fingers. Pulling the newspaper out she nervously skimmed the story. He was dead. The man who shot at her was dead. The newspaper detailed the drama surrounding Pollack's death, and all but stated Jordan had killed the "unidentified man". They assumed it was her, alleging that she was the only one with motive.

Sweet Mary mother of God, she'd killed a man. Jordan suddenly felt dizzy and sick. Dropping the newspaper, and turning the corner, she vomited, her stomach clenching violently as it struggled to push the milkshake out the wrong way. The bile burned her throat and tears stung her eyes at the struggle. Clutching her bag, she stumbled away, woozily wiping her mouth before collapsing on the stairs of some giant government building.

* * *

Only minutes before Jordan regurgitated her milkshake, a lonely apartment on Boston's Pearl street erupted in flames. Cracking in the falling light, and heating the already boiling city, the searing fire devoured the small apartment. While three men on Calamae's payroll stole away, disregarding thoughts of innocent bystanders, intent only on sending their message: she wasn't safe, and neither was anyone who helped her. At the same time, another lonely apartment, this time on Washington D.C.'s Oak Street similarly erupted, sending a thick, black smoke into the air. Firefighters flocked to both locations, but little could be saved. The apartments were toast, as were the few that surrounded them.

* * *

"Is it done?" His question was followed by a self-satisfied drag of his cigarette.

"They are both ashes. We have a new development though." He added nervously, he was going to get hell for screwing up.

"What's that?"

"The reporter had a safe deposit box, she got the key and into the box, we don't know what she got, we lost her. Then we found her again, she sent some packages, don't know how many or what was in them, just that they are waiting at a post office on 83rd Street."

"And you haven't retrieved them yet because…?"

"Trying to determine the best method to go about that sir."

"Bomb threat. Always trust a bomb threat. People get frightened, they panic, the exit, you go in during the chaos and get what you need. Gives you more time than a fire alarm, the bomb squad always takes time deliberating."

"I'll do that right away then sir. I'll shred them as soon as we get them."

"Good. Go now." The man turned and walked out as he had many times before, leaving his boss alone to ponder.

"Always trust a bomb threat." He said again to himself. Too bad he couldn't make good on this threat, bombs were always so much fun. The chaos, the devastation, the carnage, the sad news anchors as they brought desperate updates, the knowing that nothing would be the same for so long afterward, he relished the thought. He loved bombs, there was really nothing quite like them. He suddenly felt very hungry.

* * *

Meanwhile Jordan's packages were sitting in sorting bins, shifting about as gloved hands reached in and pulled out handfuls of mail, and throwing the pieces into bins marked by areas or states. These bins were nearly overflowing and as Bernadine Kaplan reached in to grab another handful of mail, a thick enveloped addressed to Boston fell to the floor. Bernadine never noticed the enveloped, but quickly thrust two other very similar looking manila envelopes, also addressed to Boston into a bin marked for Massachusetts. When Larry Marks sat down after his lunch break, he unknowingly kicked the enveloped under the short belt that took mail down to the workers who sorted out the Midwest.

Shortly after Larry began sorting and chatting with Bernadine, an immensely loud, screeching alarms went off, and a voice came over the speaker yelling for the small crowd of workers to drop everything and exit the building calmly. A bomb threat had just been called in to the Washington D.C. Central Post Office.

With drills like this know one ever stays calm, or walks in an orderly fashion, everybody knows that. Human nature dictates that we do what is necessary to save our lives, and as these postal workers weren't hardly being paid enough, they ran like hell, pushing and squishing to get out the door. This made the perfect circumstance to allow three men access to the building.

As soon as they had squeezed in, they tore around looking for the mail going to Massachusetts. As soon as the bin was found two tore through it while the third played look out. After less that two minutes each came out with an envelope marked for Boston, one to a cop, and one to a doctor. Striking a match, the third tossed it into the bin, repeating the process with two other bins. Then satisfied they stole back out into the crowd, admiring the chaos they had created with glee.

* * *

Lily entered trace two after leaving Garret's office. There was no smile on her face, and the upbeat comforting vibe that was all Lily had dissipated. Bug was alone examining slides under a high-powered microscope, Nigel was out catching his umpteenth body that week. With Jordan out, the two had been picking up the slack, quickly releasing that not only they, but the cities dead needed Jordan back, and soon.

"Bug did you finish the autopsy on Gayle Michaels?" She didn't even sound like she cared, and this caught Bug's attention as strongly as if she had just come in howling like a banshee.

"Yeah, heart attack, nothing suspicious. Lily what's wrong?" She stopped scribbling and looked up at him in surprise.

"I didn't say anything was wrong."

"You didn't have to, I can tell. What happened?"

"She isn't coming home is she?"

"Who? Jordan?"

"Who else Bug, she is the only one missing."

"Right stupid question." He agreed before continuing. "She'll be back and she'll be in one piece Lily. Jordan has gotten her ass in some sticky messes before, but she always pulls it out or has Woody do it for her."

"Bug she has been gone for over two weeks, the body count they are attributing to her is going up, and Woody said they burned down her apartment. We don't even have the slightest clue where she could be."

"I know, I know. She has been gone longer-"

"Not with cops, marshals and God knows who else after her!"

"Alright, alright, relax, okay, just relax."

"Don't patronize me Bug."

"I'm not, alright. I just don't like seeing you so upset."

"Aren't you?"

"Upset, of course. I have a handful of people I consider friends, and Jordan is one of them, but I don't doubt for a second she'll be back here pissing off Macy is no time."

"I wish I had your confidence."

"Come here." He said as he pulled her close and held her, trying to sooth way her worries.

"I just have a bad feeling. Something in my mind is screaming that this time is different, that Jordan won't be coming back. Something that says that this time isn't going to be as easy as all the others."

"You call those easy? The last time she got herself in a mess, she ended up drugged with her father and boyfriend in a showdown." He said teasing her.

"Boyfriend?"

"Well I don't know what else to call those two. They're impossible."

"Go that right…You want to take off early tonight?"

"Sure, what did you have in mind?"

"Pay-per-view, and a bottle of something strong and old to drowned out these nagging thoughts."

"I have a 15 year-old bottle of Merlot." She raised an eyebrow. "Gift from the father of a little girl I did an autopsy on. I found the hair that convicted the scum who killed her."

"Sounds great. My apartment?"

"I'll take you home when we get off." She nodded and smiled, then turned to leave, only to turn back around moments later.

"Bug?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really happy…with you."

"Me too Lily. Every minute." She smiled at him again before leaving the room.

* * *

"Hoyt." Woody didn't intend to sound so angry when he answered the phone, but it had been a very long two weeks.

"Woodrow Hoyt?"

"Yeah, what can I do for you?"

"You're the next of kin for Jordan Cavanaugh?" Woody stopped breathing and couldn't have sworn his heart stopping beating for a few seconds.

"Yes." He squeaked out.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news…a fire just destroyed most of her apartment. We can't find her, but you are listed as her next of kin."

"Her apartment burned down? How?"

"We aren't sure, but it is likely arson. We are looking into it."

"Did anything survive the fire?"

"It's hard to tell. We'll bring out what ever made it by tomorrow, and let the residents claim whatever is theirs. Do you know where we could find Ms. Cavanaugh?"

"She is very much unavailable now, but I'll come down tomorrow."

"We'll need to question her too."

"She hasn't been home for two weeks, trust me, she didn't burn down her own apartment."

"Still, we want to question her."

"Well if you find her, let me know." Woody was getting very impatient.

"She's missing."

"Has been for two weeks." Did this guy live under a damn rock?

"I'm so sorry, yes, please come down tomorrow."

"I sure will, see you then." Woody hung up. Damn it! More bad news he had to deliver. Whoever killed Pollack was after Jordan now, and had no qualms risking innocent bystanders to get her or destroy evidence. _Oh well_, he thought, _why should it be easy for a change?_ His thoughts were disturbed by a the ringing of this phone. Woody stared at the small device as if it were a snake ready to attack. He seriously considered throwing it out the window. Unless it was somebody calling to say Jordan was cleared he didn't want to hear it. Reluctantly he answered it.

"Hoyt."

"Woody, Garret. Have you seen the Globe today?"

"No, and I get the feeling I don't want to."

"You're feeling is right. They found a dead guy outside Pollack's building, who all they all but attribute to Jordan."

"What?" Woody didn't sound shocked when he asked the question. He didn't sound angry either, or even scared, rather he sounded exhausted, no, not exhausted; defeated. Completely and utterly beat.

"All the big papers say the same thing, the Post, the Times. They all blame her Woody. This isn't good."

"Aren't the Irish supposed to have good luck?"

"What?" Garret was clearly confused at the question.

"The Irish, aren't they supposed to have good luck?"

"Woody why are you asking a question like that now?"

"What the Hell else can we do Garret? We try to control this mess and it just gets worse. I want to help her, God help me, I do. But I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to stop this nightmare, and the longer it runs, the worse it gets."

"I know, I know this isn't easy, but at this point it is just another body that _she_ didn't create. We just find a way to clear her on that one too."

"Are you listening to what your saying? You are talking about clearing Jordan, one of your closest friends, of murder charges, multiple ones, as if it were an everyday thing."

"With Jordan messes like this tend to be and everyday thing."

"Garret they burned her apartment down. It's gone."

"They who?"

"I don't know damn it! The they who killed Pollack and framed her, the they who killed the bartender, the they who are probably chasing her as we speak, the they who followed Pollack from D.C. That they." He finished almost yelling.

"Alright easy Woody. We'll figure this out, we'll get her back."

"Right, sure we will. I have to go, call me if you here anything."

"Of course." Woody snapped his phone shut with a loud angry click, before dropping it tiredly on his desk. He rested his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his desk, and willed himself not to snap. He told himself over and over again that he had to keep it together long enough to help Jordan. Realizing what he was saying, he let out a bitter laugh. Right, help Jordan, like that was so easy. Was it even possible at this point?

His folded his arms on his desk, and lay his head down on them, willing some magical solution to pop into his tired head. His thoughts had drifted to the idea of tracking her down and forcibly dragging her to some tiny, non-extradition island nestled in the blue of the pacific, when the cursed device on his desk began ringing once more.

"For the love of everything that is sacred in this fucked-up world, what could have gone wrong now!" He yelled at the air. Digging his hands through his hair, he gripped the short strands, on the verge of pulling it out. He was on the verge of losing it, and he didn't know what to do. He picked up the phone, ready to throw it clear across the room, only to stop and force himself to breathe and answer the phone.

"Hoyt."


	8. Lie to Me

This update was supposed to come over three weeks ago, but I haven't had any internet access. So my apologies on time, here it is with my original intro.

This is going to be one giant lumped update. "Hide in the Shadows" is finally done, after three months. As it was written over three rather hectic months, I'm afraid it lost it's way a bit. I tried to keep it together, but I know I forgot characters (she wasn't important anyway), and twisted plot-lines. God knows I changed where I was taking this so many times, it's a miracle it ever got finished. Thank you to all of you who stuck with me all the way through, I probably wouldn't have finished otherwise. I hope everybody enjoyed (and enjoys) the ride.

Thanks again.

* * *

"Hoyt." Woody didn't hide his aggravation before he answered the phone.

"Woody?" The voice was the one he had been longing to hear for over two weeks, but there was something different about it that worried him.

"Jordan…" He breathed out her name waiting for the shock to wear off.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Jesus, are you okay. Are you hurt? Where are you? What have you been doing all this time-"

"Easy Woody. I'm fine, and I have been here and there, trying to clear my name."

"Jordan they have U.S. Marshals trying to find you."

"Great, I was looking for a challenge."

"Not the time for jokes Jordan." He scolded her.

"Woody?"

"Yeah?" He was getting nervous the tone of her voice worried him, it sounded stressed, worse it sounded scared.

"I didn't mean to do it." His blood ran cold, was she confessing?

"I don't know what you mean Jordan." He played dumb.

"I didn't mean to kill him." He heard the threat of tears in her voice as she spoke.

"Stop right there Jordan. I don't want to hear it, you didn't kill anybody."

"I di-"

"Lalalalalala." he sang, "I'm not listening to that Jordan, I told you I wasn't going to help put you away, and I'm not. Tell me you didn't do it."

"But-"

"I don't care Jordan, tell me you didn't kill him now."

"Woody-"

"Just do it damn it! I won't gather evidence against you, I won't testify against you. Damn it Jordan! I will not help send you to prison! Please just do this for me."

"I didn't kill him." She squeaked out knowing it was a lie. Silent tears began to trickle down her face, all her adrenaline had long since evaporated. She was tired, lonely, and terrified. Yes, Jordan Cavanaugh was scared to death, and this was real fear, not the kind that gave you an adrenaline rush, but the kind that was left after the rush was long gone and the problem still existed. The kind that left you wanting to give up.

"Thank you."

"Woody no matter what happens-"

"No."

"What?"

"No. We are not doing _that_ Jordan."

"What aren't we doing Woody?" She sounded exhausted.

"The doomsday talk. It's too damn clichéd, too melodramatic, and it isn't you Jordan. You don't give up. As long as I have known you, you haven't."

"I'm not giving up Woody, I am just being realistic. This isn't going to have a happy ending. Too much as happened, too much that I can't fix."

"That's not true Jordan, the guys already cleared you of the bartender's murder. They will clear you of anything else." There was a long pause, as if she was deciding whether or not to play into his fantasy of the mess ending well. Then she spoke again calmly and quietly.

"Do you remember what I said to you a year ago…in the hospital?"

"I doubt I'll ever forget it."

"I meant it Woody, I need you to know that." He could hear the tears in her voice before the loud click of the phone.

"I know." He said to the air as he snapped his phone shut. He needed to see Garret, and he needed to see him now. Picking up his phone for the fourth time in an hour he dialed the chief M.E.'s private line.

"Macy."

"Garret, it's Woody."

"Didn't I just talk to you?" He asked with mild amusement in his voice. The two men were getting to know each other very well through this ordeal.

"Funny, and yes you did. I need to talk to you, immediately."

"So talk."

"No Garret, not on the phone. Meet me at the bar that used to be the Pogue."

"Now?"

"Yeah, it's important."

"Alright, I'm on my way." Something in the detective's tone told him that something was seriously wrong, something that likely had to do with Jordan.

* * *

"I just talked to her." Less than a millisecond after Garret's rear touched the seat, Woody blurted the statement out.

"What?" Came Garret's shocked response.

"She called me right after I talked to you. She said she killed him Garret."

"Pollack?"

"Yes. She was very animate about it."

"That's impossible."

"I know, but that is what she said. She said she didn't mean to."

"I don't believe it. She couldn't have. She wouldn't have. Did she give a reason?"

"I didn't give her the chance. I made her tell me she didn't do it…I won't give the testimony that will shut the cell doors on her."

There was a long pause while both men sat in quite shock, trying to absorb that Jordan had killed Pollack, Woody still trying to process it. A million thoughts and questions swirled through the minds of both men, betraying their disbelief. _Not Jordan, she wouldn't. Why did she? It couldn't be true, she was just freaked out, she couldn't remember anything anyway. It just wasn't possible. He was shot in the back, that was homicide, and she couldn't…it couldn't…no…it never…it just simply…God damn it…this isn't happening!_

"How did she sound?" Garret suddenly broke the silence.

"Scared to death. Exhausted. She's ready to give up Garret."

"Jordan wouldn't give up, the thought isn't even wired in her hard drive."

"She tried to give me the doomsday speech Garret. You know the one you always see in movies before somebody dies or does something incredibly stupid."

"Tried?"

"I cut her off before she could get very far. She's scared Garret."

"Jordan has been through a lot Woody, but this is new even for her."

"I know, but…damn it, she's going to do something Garret and we aren't going to like it. I could here in voice, she was preparing herself for something."

"And with Jordan, who the hell knows what it's going to be." Garret finished, as he ran a hand over his bald head and stared at the table. "I should have listened to Lily."

"What?" Woody asked surprised.

"For the last couple of days she says she has been having this feeling that Jordan isn't going to come back. I brushed it off as worry, but maybe it was women's intuition."

"What is there left that we can do, Dr. M.?" Woody calling the man by the more respectful name, as if seeking advise from a sage or mentor.

Garret just stared back at him, not knowing what to say, and thanking God when his cell phone went off interrupting the tense silence.

"Macy." He answered briskly.

"Lily, Lily, stop for a minute, you're saying too much too fast for me to understand." He moved his hand placating the woman who wasn't there as he spoke.

"What! How the hell did that happen! Who leaked it!" Woody was now completely alert, ready to bolt if Garret should give a sign.

"Damn it. I'll be there soon. The precinct too? All our lines? Fantastic, we really need the challenge." He finished sarcastically.

"Yeah, give me two minutes." He hung up abruptly and looked at Woody.

"Do you remember saying to me that the longer we are in this nightmare the worse it gets?" Woody nodded his head. "It just go worse."

"What happened? Is it Jordan? Is she okay? Is she back?"

"The press, they know the whole story now and they are swarming, the morgue and the precinct. Lily says the phones are ringing off the hook, the fax machine is spewing paper, and the press is already camped out. Nigel apparently already threatened to slap one, and Lily barely stopped Bug from flipping off another. They tried to go home, but took one look at the crowd and turned back into the morgue."

Woody hung his head. "When this is over I am taking a very long vacation, and I'm bringing Jordan with me," he said eyes still turned down to the table.

"You're so sure it will end well now?"

"If it doesn't it will just be a permanent vacation in a country without extradition laws." Woody continued staring at the table head resting in his hands as Garret watched him, surprised to suddenly hear laughter.

"Woody?" He asked apprehensively, had the kid finally lost it?

"You know I just realized how ridiculous that statement was?"

"What, the non-extradition part?"

"Sure that too, but no the part about taking Jordan. We haven't had a civilized conversation in over a year, and I just broke up with my girlfriend, who was my shrink. Yet I'm going to drag her somewhere with me." Woody continued laughing.

Garret stared at him uneasily. "I think you need to get some sleep Woody."

"How well have you been sleeping?"

"Point taken. Come on, we're going back to the morgue, you can pass out on a couch there." Garret steered the still laughing detective out the door and to his car. They'd come back for Woody's car later.

* * *

The following morning Jordan woke up squeezed in the corner of a small store, having stowed away in the bathroom, until the employees closed and locked up. Yes, she had indeed become truly pathetic, but her tired body and wearied soul couldn't muster the energy it took to care. Wearily, she rose from her spot on the floor, and glanced at her watch; she still had two hours before the store opened, cut she couldn't risk falling asleep again. Disgusted as she was by the thought of ingesting the unnaturally chewy substance she snagged a peanut butter and chocolate flavored protein bar and choked it down, following it with half a bottle of water.

Using a skill learned from Nigel, Jordan disconnected the alarm, and left through the back door, the missing stock the only sign she had ever been there. She walked two blocks until she hit one of the many newspaper kiosks and handed over what little change she had left for a copy of the Times. After the headline yesterday, she thought it would behoove her to keep up with any news connected to her. As she studied a small block on B6, her shoulders slumped. _Damn it! That had been her last chance! _

"Washington Central Post Office Victim of Bomb Threat" the headline screamed. The huge central post office in the middle of D.C. is where she had dropped her packages, now they were all burned. A handful of bins of mail had apparently burned, mostly with mail headed to the East Coast, and one to Boston.

Jordan sighed, that was it, the last straw, this charade was over. She tried to clear her name, but she could only do so much, and those envelopes were her last hope, she had stupidly sent the original copies of the information. She had tried to ignore the fact that she had killed somebody, as Woody had wanted, but truth be told, in the not quite twenty-four hours she'd known, the guilt had nearly eaten her alive. It was over.

After a short walk Jordan found what she was looking for, and pushed open the heavy doors to NYPD Precinct 27.

"Can I help you ma'am?" The woman behind the desk asked her as she approached.

"Yes, I need you to contact Detective Tallulah Simmons in Boston's Homicide Unit and tell her that her fugitive is turning herself in." Jordan felt sick to her stomach voicing those words.

"Fugitive?" The woman looked uneasily at her.

"Yes, Jordan Cavanaugh, I am wanted in connection with two murders in Boston." She struggled to hold the protein bar in her stomach.

"The M.E. that killed her boyfriend?"

Jordan nodded not trusting her voice anymore.

"Bill, Chris, please put some cuffs on Dr. Cavanaugh here, Boston PD is going to be thrilled." The woman still looked very uneasy as the two uniforms slapped the handcuffs tightly around Jordan's wrists, making her wince slightly. They'd cuffed her to a chair so she couldn't move, but she could see the receptionist place a call to the captain of whatever unit she'd stumbled into.


	9. Tired of Running

"Simmons." Lu answered her phone, juggling it along with a cup of coffee and a file.

"Detective Tallulah Simmons?" The voice on the other end asked.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I'm Captain Mark Tanner with the NYPD's Arson Unit."

"Uh, okay, how can I help the NYPD?"

"Actually I can help you. Your fugitive, Jordan Cavanaugh just came into my precinct and turned herself in, asked that we contact you."

"She what?" Lu didn't believe her ears.

"Said to contact you, that she is turning herself in."

"You still have her?"

"Yeah, she's behaving herself pretty well to for a killer, got her cuffed, just sitting pretty, waiting for you."

"Okay I'll be down as quick as traffic allows to pick her up. Thank you very much Captain Tanner."

"No problem detective, she'll be here." Lu hung up and ran a hand through her hair, something was not right. Jordan Cavanaugh, the woman who never gave up on anything, like a dog with a bone, was surrendering, effectively giving up. What the hell was going on?

Lu didn't have any time to ponder her question, bedlam was raining at the BPD and she had to try and figure out a way through it. They were at the front, back, every entrance the precinct had, though at the private ones they were barricaded off at least. That settled it in her mind, get a small escort and leave through the private entrance in the back and make for New York like the devil was chasing them.

* * *

Jordan meanwhile had be moved to a very secure, private holding cell. She had her own guards sitting right outside her eight by ten box, half-heartedly reading the newspaper and ignoring her. She was so bored she was considering call Woody or Garret, just to tell them she'd turned herself in. No, she had already decided against that. She couldn't admit to them that she had given up, she couldn't bear to hear the disappointment in theirs voices.

She killed someone, she was going to prison for a very long time. She kept repeating this to herself over and over again trying to make it stick in her mind, trying to make it make sense. It still didn't, she'd been doing it for the hour or so she'd been cuffed to a chair and the well over two hours she'd been locked in the cell. She still couldn't get a grip on the words, they sounded so unreal in her head, so wrong.

For the eighth or so time, she stopped pacing, this time sliding to the floor, rather than remaining standing and heckling the guards. Knees brought up to her chest, head in her hands, hands resting on her knees, Jordan sat miserably considering her life. Half the most important relationships in her life were in the toilet, the others were for some reason loyal to the end, and let her take advantage of that. Her career was forever stalled at the Boston Morgue, as Garret had told her when he first hired her back, nobody else want her. At this point, she had only done enough in the past few years to paint herself as not only a pain in the ass, but one with a shady presence in too many investigations. And Her romantic life had died with JD; Woody probably still wouldn't want her back, besides it was too messy to go easy between them.

"People are here for Cavanaugh." A uniform informed the her two bored guards.

"Alright Doc," said one, "slide your hands through the bars so we can cuff you and take you out."

"I'm really not a threat." She insisted, while doing what they asked and suddenly laughing.

"What's so funny Doc?" He now looked annoyed.

"I know several people who would pay you to find out what you did to get me to do what I'm told." She told them with a half smile, the closest she'd gotten in over almost three weeks.

* * *

"Jordan." Lu didn't know what else to say to her. Looking her over, Lu realized for the first time what the last almost three weeks must have been for her. Jordan had lost weight; her already thin frame now looked almost fragile. Her cheeks were beginning to bare the sunken look of the emaciated, but they weren't there yet. Instead what drew attention on her face was the bruised bags under her eyes, puffy and dark from a lack of sleep. Her hair was greasy, the shin gone, the curls starting to tangle and matt. Her sagging shoulders screamed defeat, while her eyes held a blank look that was so disturbing coming from Jordan of all people, that Lu looked away.

"Hello Detective." Lu expected aggression when she went to escort Jordan out, but she got something else.

"Take me home?" It was wistful; the ragged, tired, defeated woman in front of her still had hope. It took a minute before Lu realized it wasn't hope of being freed, but rather hope of seeing a friendly, familiar face.

"Come on, I have a two cars waiting outside and I didn't inform the Marshals of your call, so the sooner we get you to Boston the better." Jordan nodded and simply walked out with her, hands still cuffed in front of her.

* * *

For Jordan's part she didn't resist, fight, or even make smart ass comments. She only wanted to go home, she was giving up the fight. It didn't exactly feel right, but she brushed those feelings aside as she climbed into the back of a cruiser, Lu getting in beside her, and stared out the window. As they left, Lu pulled out a key and took the cuffs off Jordan, this woman had been her colleague and almost friend at one point, she'd give her the benefit of a doubt.

She knew she would being going home to a prison cell, she ran, and judge in the country would remand her, but she didn't even care. When she saw that headline, when she realized she'd killed someone, her world came crashing down. Sure, it was self defense, he'd been shooting at her, but she still felt guilty. Was it that easy to take the life of a total stranger, someone who could have had children, people who loved him.

Perhaps it wasn't just the death of him that burned her, perhaps it was all the death that suddenly surrounded her. If she had taken the right drink J.D. would still be alive, she could have pushed him to drop the story, to stay safe. If she hadn't pushed so hard, hadn't hunted down the bartender, they may have let him live too. He was still so young, probably still in school, with his whole life ahead of him. If she hadn't bought a gun, another man wouldn't have died. It was time to stop the killing, she was tired of seeing people die, and truth be told, for once in her life, Jordan Cavanaugh was damned tired of running.

* * *

"Garret! Garret!"

"Where's the fire Lily?" He asked exasperated.

"Turn to 3, 4, 7 or any network and you'll see it." She said equally annoyed.

"There is actually a fire?" He asked surprised.

"Not the kind you're thinking of."

"How many different kinds of fire-" He stopped his remark when he saw Jordan's face on the news, _that_ kind of fire.

"Sources say Dr. Cavanaugh gave herself up in New York and is currently in the Boston police custody on her way back. They weren't sure when she is arriving, but they were clear that the detective on the case, Detective Simmons left early this morning."

"This morning? It is six fifteen, that would mean Jordan is in Boston now."

"Is it true Garret?"

"How the Hell should I know."

"I'll call Woody." Lily look nervous, worried and hurt all at once and it instantly made Garret sorry for snapping at her. But Damn it, why didn't he know about this?

"Do Nigel and Bug know?"

"I don't this so, I ran in here as soon as I saw it." She said covering the mouth piece of Garret's phone as she let it ring. Woody picked up on the third ring.

"Hoyt."

"Woody did you see the news?"

"Yes, and now there are reporters swarming around the precinct waiting for Jordan to show up."

"Is it true? Did Jordan turn herself in?" Woody could here the worry in Lily's voice.

"Yes, Lu just called the Captain, they are in Boston now. She is taking Jordan immediately to court to be remanded."

"That means she'll have to stay in prison till the trial?"

"And through it, until she is cleared." Woody swallowed around the lump in his throat, he didn't want to see Jordan in prison.

"Oh god, we can't let her sit in prison." Lily sounded almost frantic, which caused Garret to come up behind her as he listened and begin rubbing circles on her back trying to keep her calm.

"There isn't anything we can do about that Lily, not until she is cleared. Listen, I gotta go, I want to be in court when she gets there. I need to see her."

"Alright, should we come?"

"No, she won't be there long. Visit her tomorrow when they get her settled."

"Alright, call me tonight afterward Woody."

"Of course." After she hung up, Lily looked worriedly at Garret, who looked as worried as she did.

"I'll go tell Bug and Nigel."

* * *

Jordan's palms began to sweat as soon as they were back in Boston, and she felt like she was going to be sick. She had wanted to come home, need to, but that didn't change the fact that reality was slamming into her full force. She would spend tonight in a prison cell, and likely the next few months, hell probably the next several years. Her nerves must have been obvious, because as soon as Lu hung with her Captain, she grabbed Jordan's hand and squeezed. Jordan looked at her surprised and then gave her a sad smile.

"Which prison do you think they'll put me in?" Jordan hadn't said a word the whole trip, but suddenly felt the need to talk.

"I don't know, there is only two for women, Walcott will probably ask they put you in minimum security."

"Do you know anything about it?"

"Not really." Lu told her feeling the answer was completely inadequate.

"I won't be popular."

"You mean cause you're an M.E.?" Jordan nodded.

"You'll be protected, we'll see to that. You might be segregated though." Jordan nodded and was about to speak again, when they're conversation was interrupted.

"Detective our escort just got to the court house, it's a mob scene. Want to take her around back?"

"Yes, get as close as you can to the back entrance." She told the officer driving. To Jordan she said, "Are you ready?"

"No." Lu looked at her sadly.

"I have to cuff you again Jordan." Though she'd didn't know her that well, Lu still found it very disturbing when Jordan offered no argument, just held out her wrists toward the detective.

As soon as they exited the car, they were hit with flashes and questions.

"Dr. Cavanaugh did you kill your boyfriend!"

"Why did you kill your him!"

"Did he abuse you!" Microphones in her face.

"Dr. Cavanaugh did he cheat on you!"

"Are you going to plead insanity!"

"Why did you turn yourself in!" Camera flashes blinding her, as Lu tried to shield her.

"Why did you run!

"Who is you're lawyer!"

"Jordan, where have you been all this time!" Finally they found sanctuary inside.


	10. Inmate 1006372

Woody showed up at the morgue not long after Jordan had left for Boston's maximum-security women's prison. Garret had gathered his three closest staff members, and they all sat watching Woody as he explained court results.

"She's in Max security, but she is segregated from the rest of the population. Everybody recognizes her now, they don't want to risk her safety. Walcott also had her put under suicide watch…" Woody trailed off, they weren't going to like that part.

"Why!" It was Nigel who burst forth first.

"She turned herself in, she isn't fighting anything, and Christ, you haven't seen her, she looks…she looks…dead, she looks almost dead." He finished quietly.

"Woody when can we see her?" Lily quietly broke the short silence that had fallen.

"Tomorrow. She gets special visiting rights, courtesy of Walcott. No glass partitions, no talking into telephones, same set up as they have in minimum security."

"Do they still think she killed Pollack?" Garret asked.

"I don't know. I think her turning herself in has given them doubts. Jordan agreed to a polygraph test, they are doing it tomorrow."

"They aren't admissible in court though?"

"Walcott doesn't plan on using it. It just shows that everybody has doubts about her guilt now." Woody shot a look at Garret as he said this; they were the only two that knew of Jordan's confession.

"Alright, it's time to get back to work. We'll visit Jordan tomorrow." Garret announced as he ushered everyone, except Woody from his office.

"This isn't good Garret. She'll tell them she killed him."

"I know. What time are they doing it?"

"Not sure, afternoon maybe?"

"Then we visit her as soon as we are allowed, at what, nine o'clock or so?"

"Alright, and what convince her to lie?"

"Yes."

* * *

Jordan came to the next morning on a mattress that was as thin as a slice of bread and resting on springs older than she was. Her back ached, as did her left side, which she had been sleeping on. She looked down at her orange jumpsuit and wanted to cry. 

She had arrived last night, been strip searched, and had all her things taken from her and tossed into a paper evidence bag, which she'd get back when she was released. They'd then hoisted a folded jumpsuit and towel into her arms and escorted her to the shower. After she'd endured showering in front of a guard they tossed bed linens and a pillow in her arms and escorted her down another hallway, where'd she gotten the first look at her new eight by ten home.

Her new home didn't have much, though more than the average cell. Since she was being segregated from the general population, they gave her a suite cell. She had the aforementioned uncomfortable bed, a toilet and a sink. She be taken to shower when nobody else was in there, everything else she got in her cell. Jordan had wondered how long it would take her to go crazy.

They hadn't woken her like they did all the others, she got breakfast in her cell so it didn't matter, if it got cold that was her problem. Breakfast was waiting on her floor, slid in by the guards, unidentifiable goop in a metal tray. She didn't even bother attempting to discern what it was, she grabbed the lukewarm coffee cup and pushed the rest of the tray away.

The coffee tasted burnt and way too strong, but she didn't care, she miserably swallowed down the bitter liquid, and replaced the cup on the abandoned tray. _Now what am I supposed to do? _she thought. As if on cue a guard came around the corner to her cell, keys in hand, smile on his face.

"Cavanaugh, shower time." He told her as he approached her cell. "Normal time is gonna be eight fifteen, but we ran a little late today, had an issue with a couple of your fellow inmates." He told her. Jordan nodded and followed him out and back to the showers.

* * *

As Ben Grape studied the woman in front of him in the shower, he couldn't help but wonder about her. The guards had drawn straws to see who got to be her guard. They all liked high profile cases, it made the job a bit less monotonous, and gave them an avenue for a little extra cash. The segregated ones tended to give up personal information to the guards who watched them, who in turn sold it to tabloids. They weren't supposed, but it wasn't like anyone cared if a con's rights were violated. There had been a bonus in it this time, they had all seen pictures of her in the paper, they knew she was beautiful. 

He'd been the lucky one, he would be her day guard so long as she was incarcerated. Now he wondered about her. She wasn't what he expected, and she wasn't like the others. No, other inmates were angry, frustrated, some of the younger ones scared, some of the older were indifferent having been through the system a thousand times, many tended to be cold and distant, but most were just angry. Angry more at life than being in prison, they majority of the prison population came in with a chip on their shoulders.

Jordan Cavanaugh was different. She wasn't angry, frustrated, bitchy, or distant, and she wasn't scared either. No, she was sad. Many inmates came in looking tired, but she looked outright defeated. She carried the look of someone who had just lost their best friend. She didn't give him attitude like they all eventually did, she didn't resist when he took her by the arm and led her back to her cell. She didn't challenge him when he closed the cell door and locked it. She just did as she was told, always with that heartbreaking look in her brown eyes.

Ben's radio began to crackle as he was settling on a chair to watch Jordan. "Ben don't get her settled yet, the Doc has a couple visitors."

Ben click his radio, "I'm bringing her to the conference room right?" They were all aware that the DA had arranged special visitation rights for Jordan.

"Yep. They're on they're way over now."

"Alright, I'm getting her now." He said as he twisted the key in the lock once again, opening the door, nearly forgetting to cuff her for the walk down. She seemed so harmless he didn't think they were necessary, but regulations what they were, and jobs scarce, he slapped them on her, reminding himself that this woman had killed her boyfriend.

* * *

The walk was too short for Jordan, she didn't want to see anybody, or rather she didn't want them to see her in hands cuffs and prison orange. But, there she was, being pushed through the door toward three of the most important people in her life. 

"Jordan!" Woody was the first to see her, and ran toward her, wrapping his arms firmly around her, enjoying feeling her alive and breathing in his arms. Next she was passed to Garret who embraced her as tightly as he had when she'd come out of the mineshaft. He let out a breath he'd been holding for weeks, it was true, she had come back in one piece.

The next face she saw made her stop dead in her tracks. She had seen him when she first walked in, but she half expected him to disappear, like a figment in the imagination of a little girl who desperately needed the comfort of her father. They stared at each other for almost a full minute, before he pulled her in and held her tight tears in his eyes and whispered apologies in his voice.

After they separated, Jordan stared at the ground. She was torn. She wanted to cry tears of happiness at seeing the friendly loving faces before her, but it shouldn't be like this. They shouldn't be visiting her in prison. Suddenly self-conscious, Jordan backed away from her family, now unsure of what to do.

"How are they treating you?" Her father asked her, with an expression that suggested he would take on anyone who treated her poorly.

"Fine, better than I could have expected. The food though is…unidentifiable." She struggled to find the word. This caused amused grunts from Garret and Woody.

"Orange isn't your color Jordan." Max told her in his thick Boston accent.

"Yeah, it's too bad, only comes in one color." She said gesturing to the jumpsuit and speaking as if it was a suit she found in a department store.

"Jordan, this isn't funny."

"No, I guess not, but you're going to have to get used to seeing me in this."

"Like Hell. My girl isn't spending her life in prison."

"She is if she's guilty." She told him, looking at her feet again.

"Damn it Jordan, didn't I beg enough on the phone?" Woody interjected, stress lacing his already strained voice.

"I have a polygraph in less than an hour Woody, everything is going to come out. It's over."

"Why did you agree to that?" He was getting more distressed as he spoke to her.

"I'm tired. Tired of lying, tired of hiding, and for once tired of running. Never thought you'd see that day huh Garret?" She asked as she turned to him.

"You pick now to grow up?" He asked half joking, if only to keep it together a little longer.

"Since when has my timing been great?"

"Jordan I can't watch the only person I have left in this world go to prison forever." Max was almost pleading with her.

"I got myself into a lot of trouble Dad, there is nothing that is going to change that."

"Permanent vacation on the Islands?" He asked, humor in his words, but not his eyes.

"So you'd rather see your daughter as a fugitive forever?"

"Better than seeing you locked up. Come on Jordan, I know a guy, busted him once, makes great fake ids. Good enough to get you and Woody at of here in a few nights."

"Who said Woody wants to be dragged into this?"

"What do you mean? You two aren't dating? I thought for sure…"

"No Dad, remember boyfriend dead." She said sarcastically.

"Right, I just figured-"

"I'd go with you." Woody blurted out suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Jordan asked stunned.

"You want to get out of the country, I'll go with you." Jordan looked wide-eyed in shock from Woody to her father who both encouraged her, over to Garret where she prayed she'd find sanity, only to see him nodding his head vigorously encouraging her.

"You're all nuts! What the hell has gotten into all of you, you're taking about aiding and abetting a felon in her escape!"

"You aren't a felon yet, and Jordan, it's you, that changes all the rules we have ever known." Woody answered for the group. Jordan threw her hands up, but didn't have time to consider arguing, Walcott arrived with Lu and a polygraph technician.

"Hello…" Rene trailed off looking at the group. "Did you forget about our little date Jordan?"

"No, sorry. I just haven't seen anybody in weeks."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, whenever you are."

"Now actually. This is Lorraine Nesbit, she's the tech, she's going to hook you up now. Did you um…did you want a lawyer here?" She had expected Jordan to have her lawyer present, and was surprised that she didn't.

"Not necessary. The result will be the same." Jordan answered as Lorraine began hooking her up.

Once hooked up, Jordan looked around nervously. Rene had opted to allow her visitors to view the test, it was against some regulation written somewhere she knew, but she didn't feel like arguing with them. The tech looked to her when she was ready and she signaled her to begin.

"Is you're name Jordan Cavanaugh?"

"Yes."

"Were you born in Boston, Massachusetts?"

"Yes."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a doctorate in Medicine from Tufts University?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any children?"

"No."

"Have you ever taken a human life?" That was it the end of the control questions which she had passed with flying colors.

"Yes." Three jaws in the room dropped, Woody and Garret hung their heads sadly, and Max Cavanaugh looked first shocked, then physically ill. His little girl just confessed to murder.

"Did you kill J.D. Pollack." The tech continued before they'd all had time to recover.

"No." Now everyone in the room was thoroughly confused. Who did she kill?


	11. You Can't Go Home Again

"Stop the machine for a minute Lorraine." Rene said staring at Jordan, trying to read her expression.

"What the Hell is going on here?" She asked angrily staring at the three men, who all shrugged and stared right back in complete confusion.

"Jordan, are you sure you don't want a lawyer."

"No I'm fine."

"Okay, then did you kill the bartender?" Lorraine went to tell her the machine wasn't on, but Rene waved her off, she didn't care, Jordan was being honest, that much she could tell.

"No."

"Then Jordan, I think we are all a little confused, who did you kill?"

"The man found shot outside J.D.'s apartment in Washington…I shot him." She said her voice wavering and thick with tears. The room suddenly became very quiet as the room processed the revelation, and Jordan looked at the table sadly.

"Rene," Garret suddenly said, "Can I talk to you a minute."

"Sure…excuse me a minute." She said absently, still focused on Jordan. She continued staring at the other woman even as she rose from her seat, and again right before she left the room. Max slowly went over to Jordan and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, not quite sure what this all meant, but still eager to comfort his daughter.

After several minutes of silence, Garret and Rene rejoined the group, quietly resuming their positions.

"Turn the machine back on Lorraine, but I'm going to ask the question now." As soon as she flick it back on Rene began new questions.

"The man that was killed outside Pollack's building, you killed him?"

"Yes." Rene looked to Lorraine who nodded that she passed.

"You shot him?"

"Yes." Another nod.

"You were armed with a 44?"

"Yes."

"Were you armed with anything else?"

"No."

"You did not carry a 357 Magnum?"

"No." It was Jordan's turn to become confused.

"The only gun you fired at the scene was the 44 you bought from the pawn shop?"

"Yes." Four more nods for four truthful answers.

"Turn it off again Lorraine." She asked, and continued after she turned it off, "You didn't kill anyone Jordan."

"But-"

"Garret, your turn." She said looking at the Chief M.E.

"Jordan he had one shot in him from a 44, in his ankle. The fatal bullets were from a 357, one to his heart, one to his right lung. He probably couldn't walk after you shot him, and they didn't want to take the trouble to help him. Your bullet didn't kill him. _You_ didn't kill anyone Jordan."

"I didn't kill him?" He voice shook, not daring to believe them.

"No you didn't kill him." Garret said it as firmly as possible to try and convince her that she was innocent of the charges she'd laid against herself.

Five days later Jordan was still incarcerated, the Marshals had been sent home, pissed though they were for all the wasted time, the bounty had been called off, and the Boston PD was still chasing their tails as far as Jordan's lead went. She had explained in detail everything she knew about the conspiracy between the Judges, to Rene when she visited the day after the revealing polygraph. Rene was pushing the BPD to talk to the judges and lawyer, but they were having little success, and without evidence other than Jordan's word, they had nothing to compel them to talk or to get warrants.

Nigel, Bug and Lily had visited Jordan shortly after the rest had left, and most had been back to visit her at least one more time over the five days she had been back. Jordan never said much, so the meetings tended to be a tense. The setting didn't help any, who can relax and have a conversation in a maximum-security prison?

She recalled her first conversation with Lily, when the grief counselor had come to visit with Nigel and Bug.

"_Was it beautiful?" She asked, and seeing the blank look, she repeated herself._

"_The wedding, was it beautiful?"_

"_Oh, I forgot you didn't know," Lily paused, "There was no wedding Jordan. I called it off."_

"_What? Why?" Jordan looked visibly upset, and Lily hurried to placate her._

"_I realized that Jeffery Brandau wasn't the guy for me." She said softly, linking her fingers in Bug's._

"_Wow," Jordan stated as she realized what Lily was saying. "You're gonna have to fill me in, I feel like I missed a lot more than a couple of weeks."_

Lily had later given her a detailed account of everything that had happened with her after Jordan had left. Jordan felt weird after that, out of place, almost like she didn't belong among her friends anymore. Though more than anything now, Jordan felt lost and confused, a feeling she was not unaccustomed to, but loathed nonetheless. Her family often felt much the same.

This is where the day found Nigel, at his station in trace praying for inspiration to hit him so he would know what to run tox screens for. His long hair was a mess, a five o'clock shadow showed on his chin, and he wore the same shirt he had been wearing the previous day. Not to mention the books and papers that littered the desk, and which were only topped by the empty coffee cups strewn about.

"How's it coming Nige?" Lily asked softly as she entered trace to check on him the umpteenth time in the last to days.

"Bloody lousy Love," he said absently as he squinted at the screen. When Lily didn't leave he finally looked up. "Sorry, Lily did you need something?"

"Um, no, I was just seeing if you needed anything."

"A bloody miracle," he answered her, before beginning to mumble as he clicked the computer mouse, "Please Charlie tell me good news."

"Who's Charlie?"

"An old college mate from Britain. We had a bit of fun in our day." He said giving her his patent mischievous smile, the first in days.

"Really, I have the feeling you two got into a lot of trouble."

"Sweet Nancy that got to be it."

"What Nige?"

"Bromithide. It's a new designer date-rape drug, mostly in Europe at the moment, according to his email. That has got to be what Jordan was drugged with; there is nothing else that it could be. And he attached a software update from his lab to test for it."

"What does that mean?"

"That means love, that once I load this update our computers will be able to recognize bromithide, and that means we may be able to get Jordan out of prison." Lily nodded and watched as Nigel typed away furiously at buttons, pausing every now and again, until he looked satisfied, and crossed the lab to pull more of Jordan's blood from a freezer.

"You think this is it?"

"I don't now what I think anymore, but I'm hoping it is." He said as he loaded the sample into the machine, and held his breath.

It felt like they were waiting and hour, but it couldn't' have been more than a minute or two before the results popped up on the machine.

Positive for bromithide.

"Sweet Mary and the Manger we finally found it!" Nigel yelped as both released their breath and Nigel smacked another series of buttons that cause the machine to spit out a report.

Nigel grabbed the paper and tore out the door. "Dr. M. Dr. M! She was drugged! She was drugged! Dr. M. She was drugged!" He shouted as he tore through the morgue hell bent on getting to Garret's office.

"Christ Nigel, what the hell is going on?" Garret demanded as he stepped out of his office.

"I found it, she was drugged." Ha said out of breath.

"What and Who Nigel? I can't believe I'm actually going to ask this, but explain?"

"Jordan was drugged with bromithide."

"What is bromithide?"

"New designer date rape drug. Has the same effects and symptoms as the traditional ones, you know GHB and Rohypnol. It explains why she didn't remember anything, she was unconscious. Jordan was right, Pollack's drink was spiked."

"Get a printed report, I'm calling Rene. We can get Jordan out today." He didn't wait for a response, but turned back in his office.

"Already ahead of you, got it right here." He said as he followed Garret into his office.

"Dr. Macy, what's going on?" Kayla had been in Garret's office and now looked confused and worried.

"It's alright Kayla, Nigel may have just found the key to freeing Jordan."

"Really? What is it?"

"It's um…" Nigel stopped abruptly after realizing that he was talking to a thirteen year-old, how could he explain this to her without scaring her? "Um, Jordan was drugged, she was unconscious, she couldn't have killed Pollack."

"You mean like a roofie?" She asked.

Nigel looked at her not quite sure what to say. _Do kids learn these things that fast?_ "Same idea, different drug." So much for shielding the kid.

Meanwhile, Garret finally got through to Rene.

"Rene, we just got something to clear Jordan, on Pollack."

"Nigel found bromithide in her blood. It's a new date-rape drug."

"Yeah she would have been out cold."

"Alright we'll have it ready." He said quickly and hung up.

"Nigel, get me research on that drug. Rene wants to see the report and research on the drug to confirm what it is."

"Consider it done." He said as he left the office.

"Kayla…are you okay now?" The kid had come to his office upset and on the verge of tears. She had been following the story on Jordan and didn't know what to think, and her mother had told her to leave it alone.

"Yeah, so she's being released tonight?"

"As long as the DA can get in front of a judge, which shouldn't be a problem."

"So I can see her tomorrow?"

"It's probably best if you just call. If the press see you going into her apartment they'll hound you for weeks and Jordan won't want that."

She nodded, "But she is going to be okay?"

"Yeah, she's been cleared of everything, they know she is innocent now." Kayla nodded and left feeling better than when she had come in. She had noticed Jordan in the news a few weeks after she disappeared, but had been too freaked out to go to the morgue to hear what they knew. When Jordan came back to Boston, she was too nervous and worried to try until now. She felt like she would explode if she didn't find out what was going on. Though her mother, and most of the people she knew figured Jordan was as guilty as O.J., she couldn't believe for a minute that the woman who had been there for her at the worst time in her life, was a cold-blooded killer.

Lu Simmons sat at her desk with a small pile of mail, sorting through it. Notice of a parole hearing, court summons, and a bizarre package with no return address, only a Washington D.C. post mark. Using the slim letter opener she sliced through the top of the package and pulled out the contents, finding a folded note on top.

_Lu,_

_I didn't kill him; this information proves it. These judges knew that he knew about their little scheme, that he was going to write a story on it. The three judges were being paid for verdicts and the lawyer was delivering the payments. All you need is Sansom's bank statement to prove it. I'm innocent._

_Jordan_

Lu studied the other papers, staring open mouthed. Jordan had mentioned these packages before, she said they'd been burned up in a fire. She grabbed the papers shoving them neatly together, and running to the copying machine. She made two more copies, threw one in her desk and stowed one in Woody's desk, before accosting him on his way back to it.

"Come with me," she said. He looked confused, but followed her anyway. She dragged him into the Captain's office, only knocking quickly before barging in.

"Detective Simmons, what can I do for you?" He looked at her skeptically.

"Sir, I just found a package from Jordan Cavanaugh, she must have sent it while she was running." She answered, ignoring Woody's widened eyes.

"Package containing what?"

"Bank statements and verdict dates."

"I don't follow detective." He didn't seem to care too much either.

"The statements are from two judges, the judge and a Boston judge named Eric Murphy and a lawyer, Henry Calamae. Also has verdict dates for criminal trials in both those judges courts and another, Greg Sansom in New York. The verdict dates correspond with deposits to the lawyer and one of the judges, though not the one who delivered the verdict."

"What does this have to do with Jordan Cavanaugh?"

"Pollack the man she was accused of killing, he was a reporter, working on a story on these judges."

"Go pay Dr. Cavanaugh a visit Simmons find out everything she knows, and Hoyt, visit the morgue see if they know anything about this, if she does you can bet they do too, and they trust you, they'll tell you. I am going to call the FBI, if this is true, it's going to be a federal case." He picked up his phone, effectively dismissing his detectives, who quickly left to follow his orders.

Three hours of running around and confusion later, two detectives, two M.E.s and a grief counselor waited in Max Cavanaugh's home, for Jordan to arrive, accompanied by Garret and Rene Walcott. Woody fidgeted while he watched Max pace, sharing the man's eagerness to see his daughter out of prison orange. As far as he knew, Jordan didn't know her apartment was ash, but he supposed when they got here she would.

"So you people are actually investigating this lead now?" Bug asked Lu, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"Yes, any other information you may have would be extremely helpful." She answered in full cop-mode, ignoring his attitude.

"You know more than we do now."

"We need more than this if we are going to nail them, and protect Jordan."

"What do you mean protect Jordan?" Lily asked concerned.

"If they killed Pollack, they were also the ones shooting at Jordan in D.C., and they'll probably come after her again."

"Can you guys station cops outside the house?"

"We could, but we won't. She isn't a witness, yet, so it's not in the budget."

"Is there anything you can do for her?" They were suddenly interrupted by the front door opening and Jordan walking in with Garret and Rene close behind her.

She looked shell-shocked and her street clothes made her look thinner, normally tight, they hung a little on her now, betraying the amount of weight she'd lost. She must have lost more weight not eating prison food, because her cheek bones stuck out just a little more. While her hair no longer looked matted, it now hung, dull and limp. Three and a half weeks of hell will do that to a person.

"Come here Jordan, I'm feeding you a real meal." Her father insisted breaking the silence that had befallen. He hugged his daughter, acknowledged her companions and dragged her over to the kitchen table. He busied himself in the kitchen while Jordan stared at seven people who were all watching her back, she felt distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate their concern, it was just a bit much for a person who had spent nearly a month alone. Not to mention that she was just released unexpectedly and found out that her apartment was no more.

"Hey Jordan," Lu said coming over to her. "I got your package."

"Really?" She stared at her. "I thought they were all burned in that fire."

"It seems not. Jordan, do you know anything else about this?"

"No, everything I know is in those pages."

"Can you swear to their authenticity?"

"Well the verdicts were just written dates, so you have to look them up, and the original statements had the watermark of the bank, and I called and verified that the account numbers matched the names."

Lu smiled at her. "You've just become a witness for the state."

"Excuse me?"

Rene had been following everything and knew exactly where Lu was heading. "You testify to that in court, I can get warrants for official copies, the third judges, the lawyer's books and any other documents pertaining to this. We'll have forensic accountants busy for days. We'll nail them Jordan."

Nigel suddenly got very upset, "You people are putting her right back in their trigger happy cross-hairs!"

"Nigel, easy." Garret tried to placate him, though he was equally upset.

"It's true, you're putting he in more danger, hasn't she been through enough?" Max was in full-blown protective dad mode.

"She is going to be in danger so long as they are on the streets."

"That doesn't mean you need to put her in more."

"Nigel, Dad, relax. And everybody stop talking about me like I'm not here. Rene when you need me in court let me know, I'll be there. Before anybody objects, don't. I'm doing this, there isn't a damn thing you can say to stop me. Now, I'm going to my room to sleep for the next week. Goodnight." With that she turned and hurried up the stairs, eager to get out of the spotlight.

There was a long silence in the room while its occupants considered what Jordan had said. Woody was the one to break it, his voice coming out calm and even.

"Can you offer her protection?" He asked turning toward Rene.

"We can, we have it in the budget. Anyway, this case is going to be in federal hands the day after tomorrow, they can offer her witness protection…if it comes to that." She added at the alarmed looks on their faces.

"You're going to take her away, change her name, and send her to some Podunkville where she will be a checkout girl at Walmart? My Jordan will never settle for that." Max spoke, reminding everyone that this was _his_ daughter they were discussing.

"It's likely it may not come to that. They may spirit her away for a while, but I don't think it will become permanent." Rene tried to placate the angry father.

"So they'll just take her away to some Podunkville and keep her locked in a hotel for the year it will take the trial to play out. She'll love that, a prison with room service." Max bit out sarcastically.

"Look Max, there is little choice here, if they don't prosecute, Jordan will still be in danger. I don't like this either, but if it keeps her alive, I'm all for it."

"It's her decision though, isn't it." Woody stated rather than asked, interrupting the argument.

"She already made it too, when she said she'd be in court." Nigel reminded them softly.

A hour and a half later, everybody had left, and Max Cavanaugh climbed the stairs of his home, intent on having his first real conversation with his daughter in longer than he'd like to admit.

"Jordan." He called and knocked gently before walking in, knowing full well, she wouldn't be asleep.

"Yeah?" She asked tired and not prepared for the conversation she knew was coming. Their previous conversations had been more strained and tense than those with her friends.

"So they told you about your apartment?"

"That it and everything I own is now reduced to ash? Yeah, they told me."

"Well, your welcome here as long as you need."

"Thanks."

"I feel like I don't know how to talk to you anymore Jordan. You gotta help me out."

"You left."

"I know, I had to figure some things out, needed some time away from Boston."

"You didn't call, write, email, nothing."

"I didn't feel like there was a need."

"I needed you. Christ Dad, it took my mug shot on the evening news to bring you back!"

"I came back didn't I?"

"I needed you before that Dad. For so long."

"You had friends to turn to, Garret and Woody, especially."

Jordan let out a bitter laugh.

"What?"

"Not for the last year Dad."

"Why?" Max was now completely confused and more than a little upset.

"My relationship with Woody is pretty much nonexistent now, and things are still strained with Garret, at least I screwed that relationship up for a good cause."

"Jordan what the Hell has gone on since I've been gone?" Jordan sighed, feeling the exhaustion now more than ever, and grumbling began to fill her father in on what he'd missed.

"I'm sorry Jordan, I wish I'd known." He told her when she finished.

"Yeah, well, you didn't think I was capable of destroying those relationships in that little time. Neither did I…" She trailed off, staring off as her father gave her a hug, and quietly left her room.

Coming home wasn't what she'd expected. She couldn't go back to her old life, too much had happened; too many things had changed. It wasn't just Bug and Lily together sort of changes, it was also the more subtle ones. They looked at her differently, they spoke to her differently, because she wasn't just Jordan anymore. She was the Jordan they'd seen described as a murder in newspapers and TV. She was the Jordan they'd seen sporting prison orange and shackles. The one that had become Leno and Letterman's new punch lines. The one that they saw covered in blood standing next to her boyfriend's dead body.

No, she had crossed a line this time. This time she couldn't snap back to who she was, and the life she lived. It was awkward with them now, even out of prison. The easy comfort she'd had with them were long gone, now it seemed like they didn't know how to treat her. They didn't know what to say to her anymore, that much was obvious to her. It wasn't their fault, not really; it was hers. She was alone now, truly alone.

Jordan Cavanaugh was rebuilding her walls, and this time it wasn't brick by brick. It was layer by layer, and now the bricks were incased in layers of steel. This mess was her own fault, she thought. She never should have let those walls come down…


	12. Don't Fear the Reaper

Jordan was at her father's house only three days before federal agents came and get her. They knocked on the door at dinner time, told her to pack a bag, that they were taking her to a safe house. She shrugged and went to pack up the few things she'd bought since she'd returned. A few pieces of clothing, toothbrush, hairbrush, a few necessary cosmetics, and she left with them, giving only a short goodbye to her father. She had know this was coming, in fact it took longer than she thought for them to come. Truth be told, she didn't even care. She felt that feeling returning, the one shrinks had nagging her about since she was fifteen, the indifference she felt about her own life. It might have frightened her if she hadn't felt so drained.

Jordan's conversations with her father had gotten much better than they had begun. When she left they were still short, still strained, and still very, very awkward. She stopped talking too much to anyone, as far as she was concerned there was nothing left to talk about. Life had screwed her yet again, but this time she was tired of picking up the pieces and starting over. She'd done it too many times in her fairly young life; it was time to stop. The only problem was how, and where.

"Hey Doc, we're here. You're new home until the trial is over. Take a look, you could be here a while." The agent at her side nudged her and pointed to a small cottage that they'd driven hours to get to, way too many hours.

Though the cottage was cute, Jordan wasn't impressed, rather she was completely indifferent. Once upon a time she would have bitched and moaned about being stuck in witness protection, she would have refused, given them hell, and probably plotted how to escape. Now though, she simply followed them into the house, place her suitcase on the bed in the room they had designated as hers and calmly unpacked. Had her family been there, they would have called 911, something had to be seriously wrong with her, this was not the Jordan Cavanaugh that they had grown to know, and yes love. But this is what Jordan had reverted to as a form of protection against the pain she'd been constantly put through, especially the pain of the last few years.

So it was that these Feds lucked out more than they would ever understand, babysitting Jordan Cavanaugh was a piece of cake. Why couldn't all their witnesses be so well-behaved, so accommodating? Ironically the guards who observed her while she was incarcerated said the same things to themselves. So it was also that these Feds enjoyed the two months they spent guarding Jordan, there weren't even any attacks.

* * *

He sat at his desk, calming his nerves by lightly another cigarette with a fresh match and taking a drag. Federal agents were rifling through his belongings, messily throwing them in boxes carelessly. The fuckers had turned him in, he did their dirty work and the little fuckers turned him in. His companion sat squirming in his seat, well , squirming more than normal.

"Alright, let's try this again, what's your real name?" One fed demanded looking at him as he calmly took another drag.

"Gerald Weaver, my name is Gerald Weaver." His squirming buddy desperately answered at him, though he wasn't the one asked, attempting to score brownie points.

"We already know your name man, his we don't. Do you know his name?"

"Smoke?"

"No his real one genius." The agent said annoyed.

"Man what is your name. Cooperate and we'll go easier."

He blew a smoke ring at him.

"Last chance, what the fuck is your name?" The agent was getting pissed now.

"How about I spell it for you?"

"Whatever so long as I get it."

"S-A-N-T-A-C-L-" The agent finally got it then.

"Screw you, little prick. We'll book you just the same." He said as he cuffed both and dragged them out with two other agents.

* * *

Meanwhile these two months Jordan was gone, the morgue carried on as normal, they had cases, did autopsies, ran trace, went out together, though not as often. Everything seemed painfully normal, but they all knew it wasn't. Even with Woody once again a more than regular visitor, now that the tension wasn't there, and likewise with the blond detective. They all felt her absence, more than she might ever realize. When Bug gave Lily flowers to cheer her up after a bad day, she couldn't wait to gush to Jordan. When Nigel found a particularly lewd tattoo on a body he starting walking to Jordan's office, laughing until he realized she wasn't there. One day in the lab, Bug annoyed at an unidentifiable gook on a body, turned to ask Jordan what she thought it could be. Perhaps most tragically, when Garret felt he may fall off the wagon head first, he sat and stared at the stange woman in Jordan's office. As for Woody, if it was possible it felt stranger now than it had before walking into the morgue and passing Jordan's office. Several times a day he had to tell himself that she wasn't there. Max thought about leaving again, but knew that she would never forgive him.

Jordan stood at a stove attempting to make Béchamel sauce, as cooking had become her new hobby while she was a prisoner of the FBI. They were happy to bring her what ever she asked for, simply because she didn't complain. Cooking real food, not just frozen vegetables and pasta wasn't something that Jordan was known for, perhaps that is why she chose that. But for a month and a half she'd been pouring through cook books, randomly picking recipes and feeding a very happy companions. Even as she stirred the cream sauce burned, sticking to the pot, frustrating her, and reminding her why she never cooked like this before.

"Uh no." she mumbled as she saw her sauce begin to burn and began stirring even faster and lowering the heat, trying to get the milk, flour, and cheese mixture to thicken.

"You okay there Jordan?" Jerry, her day guard asked.

"Fine, it's just this crap keeps burning to the bottom of the pot." She lifted the pot and mixed it away from the heat.

"What are you making?"

"Baked macaroni and cheese, but failing miserably."

"Sounds good, I may stay past my shift and sneak a bite."

"Your shift ends in thirty minutes, you'll be stuck here for hours if you stay, cause this isn't going well." He laughed at her as she studied the lumpy mixture in the pot, and wrinkled her nose at the skin it was developing.

"It might be worth it to see if you mastered something other than every salad known to man."

"You see, this is why I stuck with salads." As she spoke there was a harsh pounding on the door.

"Steve, what the Hell is going on, you could wake the dead with that pounding and you're a half hour early."

"Prosecutors moved Jordan up on the witness list, she testifies bright and early tomorrow. We have to move her tonight, as soon as night falls."

"Why the hell did they move her?"

"Confuse everyone I guess."

"It worked," He commented as they headed inside, "Hey Jordan, time to put down the spoon, we're taking you back to Boston."

"What's going on, what happened?" she asked nervously, showing a rare bit of emotion.

"It's fine, the attorneys just moved you up on the witness list, you testify tomorrow."

"I guess I'll go pack." She said as she left, reverting back to her state of indifference.

Jordan didn't know how she felt about returning to Boston. She didn't know how she felt about facing Pollack's killers, the people that had tried to kill her, tried to take her life as she knew it away from her. She didn't know how she felt about seeing her family again, not that she'd have much of a chance. But she knew they'd be there in the courtroom, supporting her as she testified. Part of her wanted to see them because she missed them, part of her didn't want to see them because she needed them.

* * *

The next morning Jordan sat in an annoyingly familiar, black sedan with tinted windows and a Fed on either side of her. The car ride back to Boston had been long, and the night had been even longer, she hadn't been able to really sleep. Now dressed in nice slacks and a sweater Lily had gotten her, Jordan prepared herself to testify. A heavy dose of coffee and a layer of make-up left her hoping they would be enough to make her look presentable.

They seemed to have been going light speed at the rate they made it to the courthouse, and this speed continued as they ushered Jordan in through the backdoor of the old building. They had just made it through the first hallway when a blast of gunfire came out of nowhere. No it wasn't just a blast, it was many blasts, one following the other in a deafening beat. Two agents tackled Jordan to the ground, covering her as human shields, while the others took to a crouching position and tried to find where the blasts were coming from.

"Get her the fuck inside the witness room, Now!" roared the senior agent in charge, as the rest huddled over her, shielding her as they made for the nearby witness room. As these three did what they were told, and a dozen other FBI agents stormed the area, firing in the directions of the shots.

Ten minutes of shooting went on until their opponent stopped.

"Did we get the bastard?"

"I can't tell."

"Miller, Banks, Grape, Mattice, and Rose go over and look for him, keep your weapons ready. Fraser and Hampton go check on Dr. Cavanaugh." The three remaining agents called in the mess, and requested CSU and had three ambulances sent. Though it seemed too late for two of the agents.

Ten minutes after this, Jordan had been asked if she was okay so many times she was on the verge of screaming. Physically she was in one piece, but two men died men died protecting her, no she wasn't fine. This is what she told the two lead prosecutors.

"That's fine we can recess for tomorrow, no way the judge won't give that to us."

"No." Jordan said.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't ask the judge for a recess."

"You don't want to testify anymore?"

"That isn't what I said. I'm supposed to testify this morning, so I am testifying this morning."

"Dr. Cavanaugh are you sure you're up to this?" Both attorneys eyed her warily.

"Yes, go back into court and call me so I can get this over with." Ignoring the fact that she had blatantly ordered them, the attorneys left to do just that.

* * *

"The Prosecution now calls Dr. Jordan Cavanaugh to the stand." The doors to the courtroom flew open and Jordan walked nervously to the stand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth so help you God?"

"I do."

"Dr. Cavanaugh, Jordan, can you tell us a little about your life prior to the last three months?"

"I was a Medical Examiner in Boston…" For ten minutes Jordan told the jury about her life prior to J.D.'s death.

"Now please tell us Jordan, what happened the morning after Ms. Lebowski's rehearsal dinner."

"Lily knocking on the door woke me up, I had maid of honor duties. My head was hazy at first, I didn't remember a whole lot. I saw the gun in my hand and the blood all over the dress I wore the night before, I was still in it…Lily came in and saw…and asked me to put the gun down, I didn't at first…it was still fuzzy. She asked me what happened, and I…I didn't know, I didn't know what to tell her…I couldn't remember anything." Jordan's voice cracked remembering that morning.

"It's alright Jordan, please go on."

Her voice was stronger for most of her testimony, there were only a few more parts where it cracked again, but nonetheless, she was exhausted. Her eyes kept wandering between the attorney, the defendants, and the six faces in the crowd that were her family. The jury had already seen four of those faces, Woody and Max were the only ones not testifying. For Jordan it wasn't over yet, but unbeknownst to the crowd in the courtroom, a man slid in, taking a seat toward the back. He sat close to the isle, feeling the buldge in his jacket pocket. He was late, they had just called him in, but he wasn't too late. If he got rid of her before the defense finished questioning her, he testimony would be stricken.

"Dr. Cavanaugh you violated and skipped you bail, manhandled a bartender, broke into an apartment, a newspaper office, and a safety deposit box, and we should believe that you are honest?"

"Objection!"

"The defense has the right to examine the good doctor's credibility."

"Overruled."

"So Doctor, how can we possibly believe that you are honest?"

"I had to prove my innocence."

"That gives you the right to break laws?"

"No."

"So then you are being prosecuted for breaking and entering?"

"No."

"Now I'm confused."

_Fingering his bulge he scanned the courtroom for the best approach._

"Dr. Cavanaugh you're known as something of a loose cannon, aren't you?"

"I couldn't tell you that, you'd have to ask whoever I am known to."

"Very well. This isn't the first time you were suspected of a murder was it?"

"Objection you honor!" The prosecutor was on his feet now."

"Again, goes to credibility."

"Very well, continue."

_Should he move or just shoot?_

"So Doctor?"

"Yes."

"A police captain wasn't it?"

"Captain Malden yes."

_Lean out and fire. Worry about spray?_

"Was shot to death in your apartment?"

"Yes."

"And you were let off on that charge too."

"I didn't kill him."

_No, who cares about bystanders._

"That's right, you were drugged weren't you?"

"Yes, he put rohypnol in my scotch."

"Bad things happen when you drink-"

_Nice hit counselor._

"Objection! Objection! No foundation!" This time he was practically jumping up and down.

"That is sustained. Watch where you are stepping counselor."

-Keep the questions coming, come on, come on.

"I have no-"

_Jackass no! Aw Hell, here goes._ He yanked out the gun and began firing toward the witness stand, when he saw Jordan go down, he continued firing crazily. This could give him to time to make sure she is dead.

Damn it, guards, time to go.


	13. Moments Like This

"What the Hell was that! Don't these idiots check for guns anymore!" Garret shouted to nobody as he and his five companions made for the hall they saw Jordan dragged down.

"Do you think she was hit?" Lily's toned sounded as if she should have been wringing her hands.

"It didn't look like it…" But Garret just didn't know, and wasn't sure he wanted to know.

They burst through the door to see four agents holding guns on them, on alert.

"Put the guns down, they're my friends." Jordan's wild eyes betrayed her calm tone.

"Jordan are you alright?" Max ran up to hug her, as the rest of the group let out a collective sigh of relief.

"I'm fine." She replied her eyes slowly changing to distant, calm, almost dead.

"Was she hit!" the attorneys came in franticly searching for Jordan.

"No, I wasn't hit. I am done testifying?"

"I hope so, I want you back in witness protection yesterday." He said and Jordan simply nodded, offering no fight.

"Judge is looking for you counselors, defense is howling, says they're not done with Ms. Cavanaugh." The bailiff poked his head in.

"Doctor." Came a chorus correcting him, though it did not include Jordan, who listened, seemingly uninterested.

"Apologies, Dr. Cavanaugh." He said.

"Alright Jordan, we have to go fight this out. You're going to have to hang around a little longer, okay?" Jordan again just nodded as the lawyers left.

Lily took that moment to run up and hold Jordan tightly, trying to give her friend comfort. And as they had a few times since that fateful morning, her friends, or rather family, each gave her a hung in turn, except for Garret, who hung back, concern lacing his features.

He watched each embrace, all one fairly one-sided, while Jordan's expression never changed. While her family all held expressions of love and often concern, especially on Max's part, who held his daughter for several minutes, Jordan's features remained cold. Her eyes reviled nothing but a seeming lack of concern; she offered no smile, no frown, no tears, nothing to offering any feeling on her part but apathy. The more he watched, the more Garret's worry grew, until, the only one left to hug her, he instead took her hand, and led her away from the crowd. While everyone else looked puzzled by Garret's actions, Jordan again didn't seem to care. Nobody made a move to follow though, they gave them space.

"Jordan what is going on?" He confronted her.

"I guess we are just waiting." She replied, misunderstanding.

"No, with you. What is wrong with you?"

"I don't understand."

"Jordan you aren't scared, you aren't angry, sad, happy, nothing. Hell, you don't even seem to care what is going on around you." She just shrugged at him.

"No Jordan, you can't shrug at me. What the hell is going on with you?"

"I don't know, I guess I have just decided to accept things."

"This isn't acceptance Jordan, this is apathy."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! Of course it matters Jordan! You're acting like you've just given up!"

"If it gets me through…" She said nonchalantly.

"Jesus Jordan, it's almost as if you died inside." She shrugged once more.

"No."

"No what Garret?

"No you aren't giving up. You aren't going to stop feeling."

"I already have…" she said quietly as she stared off, apparently done with the conversation. Garret then made a split second decision, he had to wake her up somehow. It was if she had gone into some sort of long term shock, and was feeling nothing. He grabbed her upper arms and shook her harshly, telling her she needed to snap out of this.

Jordan's soft cry of alarm alerted the near silent room, as they looked at the pair in shock. Garret had never been violent with Jordan, Garret was hardly ever violent, if ever. Not in a million years would they have expected what they saw, and a few even advanced, as did the four agents protecting her. Then they heard her tiny voice.

"I can't Garret. I can't feel anymore." Her tone laced with tears even then.

"You have to Jordan. You taught me that when you pulled me out of that bottle. You can't make yourself stop feeling, you may as well be dead." His tone sounded as if he was holding back his own tears.

The damns burst then. Three months of corralling her emotions finally gave way in Jordan, and she began sobbing uncontrollably on Garret shoulder, who finally embraced her tightly. She let him hold her only a few seconds before she pulled back, trying her best to stop the flood of tears.

"I can't. It's too damn hard to survive if I feel. I won't."

"Jordan please don't do this. Don't shut us out. You have a room full of people who care about you and want to help you."

"You can't! Don't you get that yet? You can't stop the pain; you can't stop the fear. Damn it Garret, the FBI can't even stop people from trying to kill me!"

"You aren't alone Jordan."

"Yeah, for the first time in my life Garret, I think I am." Garret stood silent then, he didn't want to argue with her, he didn't even know how. A small part of him knew she was right.

* * *

The other five members of the tightly knit group watch them argue, tears streaming down Jordan's cheeks, and threatening to drop from Garret's eyes. Lily was clingy tightly to Bug, both obviously upset, but completely void of any words to say that weren't already said. The other three stood beside them, each practicing their own nervous mannerism, obviously also at a loss. The four FBI agents stood off to the side, looking increasingly uncomfortable and pretending not to watch. Finally, running his hands through his hair, and as jittery as a jumping bean, Nigel approached Jordan, taking her hands.

"I know it may feel that way after Washington, prison, and now the feds solitary confinement, but it's not Jordan. It just isn't. We are back home we're we have always been, waiting for you to come home. This is a nightmare for us too." She only looked at him questioningly.

"Imagine getting a phone call one morning that one of your best friends, screw it, your sister killed someone. Imagine the entire Boston PD, except for one cop believing she did it, even her at one point. Then she disappears for a month with only a few emails. The cops search her home, the morgue, Marshals come and question you. Then she comes back, looking like she's already been dead a week, and is thrown in prison. Finally you clear her, get her released to have the Feds spirit her away so they can use her as a witness. She comes back, silent as the grave, looking not that much better, and gets shot at twice in less than three hours. And she doesn't even care." Nigel's voice shook with emotion the entire time he spoke and he stared into her eyes, not letting her back down.

"We want this to end just as badly as you do Love. We want you back, it isn't right when you aren't here. We're a family, if one of us is missing, we fall apart."

Jordan shook her head, tears still streaming through her eyes, "It's too hard Nige. It's too hard to feel, to care. If I care about getting home, if I care about living, then I'll feel. If I feel…If I feel, I…I'll just break."

"If you can't let yourself feel for yourself, then do it for us. Survive for us. Weep, mourn, get pissed, break if you need to Jordan, because when you come home, we can help put you back together. We need you Love, all of us. When you don't care about yourself anymore, care about us. Can you do that?" he asked tears edging his voice.

"Yes." She said softly nodding her head. "Yeah, I can do that."

He embraced her then, letting her tears soak through his shirt, sighing in relief. Jordan would be Jordan again, and she would be alright until she came home. Then they could help her pick up the pieces of her life and move on.

"Jordan! Jordan we just got done arguing with that idiot, you don't have to testify- did we miss something?" the attorneys had returned and eyed the teary scene with confusion.

"Staged a damn intervention." Jordan quipped, drying her tears and smiling her first real smile in almost three months.

"Is everything…okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah…am I going back in witness protection?" She abruptly changed the subject.

"Definitely, that is if you want to live." He tried to joke in the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Yeah, I want to live. Back to the cottage?"

"No they're moving you somewhere farther away. I don't know where though."

"How long?"

"At least until we get a conviction."

"And if you don't?"

"Should that happen, which I don't think it will, you know we have a very strong case, and-"

"Then I don't come home right?"

"Yeah, then it's safest if you stay well hidden."

"I'll get new agents watching me this time won't I?"

"Sorry, yeah. They'll be somewhat local to wherever you're being hidden…actually the Feds are ready to take you now."

"I'm just going to say goodbye."

"Alright, these four here will escort you out. Thank you Jordan, because of you we are putting away some very bad people." He said proudly and shook her hand, before leaving.

Jordan turned back to her friends. "There you go Nige. What if I don't come home, what if I fall apart and there is nobody to pick up the pieces."

"Then you'll survive or you'll find somebody. Either way, it is certainly better than the alternative, feeling nothing ever again."

"Is it?"

He didn't speak for a moment as he embraced her and kissed her forehead. "Of course it is Love."

Jordan didn't look convinced but proceeded in another assembly line of hugs and kisses, until she got through everybody, sending them one by one through the door. But Woody had hung back. He had been quiet and held the same worried look he'd carried the whole time. When she hugged him, he held on longer and so tightly she thought he might cut off her breathing. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear and she felt rather than saw his tears, as his stained cheek rubbed against hers.

"Don't shut down on us again Jordan. Please don't leave us." He spoke, his voice choked, and then disappeared, leaving her speechless.


	14. Taking It Back

Jordan was ushered out the door through the hallways, and out the backdoor to the car, all while four armed agents moved, ringed around her, guns drawn, ready to pounce. She was exhausted as she sat back in the seat, agents on either side of her, bound for who knew where, and who knew how long. She'd finally given in, she'd let herself feel, and let herself cry. But could she keep it up, could she let herself feel without it destroying her?

She didn't know if she could, but she tried. So, Instead of remaining stoic and uncaring her few weeks back in protective custody, she let her emotions show. Somewhat. When she gave in and ended up sobbing at news report about J.D., the agent sitting beside her looked completely lost. He tried to console her, but unfortunately, shoulder to cry on was not in his job description, and he was all thumbs, so to speak.

Jordan ended her little experiment there, instead she cried herself to sleep at least twice a week. Truth be told, as awkward as it had become, those people were all she had in the world, and she did miss them. She was angry and frustrated and depressed all at the same time, and the moments they all hit her at once it was hard to deal. These were the nights that she'd go to bed early, and cry softly until sleep finally took her, late into the night. But, one thing could be said for these nights; it helped her deal. Little by little, the frustration and angry began to subside, and the pain became easier to take.

* * *

It was the next evening after the latest one of these sleepless nights that found Jordan smiling. It was even almost real. She was playing scrabble with one of the agents guarding her, and winning, thanks to her medical terminology.

"This is so not fair, you can't use doctorology!"

"Is too. You are perfectly welcome to use any vocabulary from profession."

"That's more common than, what the hell did you put down, cytosine? What the hell is that?"

"One of the four base pairs that make up DNA."

"That's it? Damn it's been awhile since high school biology."

"Dextrose. There I won. Game over." Jordan said as she laid her words on the board.

"That has something to do with sugar doesn't it?"

"Yep."

"So, doc, tell me honestly, how are you holding up?"

"As good as anyone would be…what do you think the odds of me getting to go home are?"

"U.S. attorney has a good case, I think you have a pretty good shot."

"Thanks."

"I wasn't just humoring you, I really mean that- Uh hang on." He said pausing to answer his phone.

"Grady."

"Seriously?"

"That's great!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell her immediately."

"Yeah, by the end of the week at the most." He finished, hanging up.

"What'd I tell ya, Doc? Your jury just came back with a guilty verdict. Dickheads got heavy sentences coming to them. You're going home."

"Really?" Jordan uttered in disbelief. It was a good thing she was sitting or she would have fallen over.

"Yep, by the end of the week…Hey, you okay, you don't look so good."

"Yeah, my head is spinning…It's really over?"

"Done. Over. No more. Your Hell has finally ended."

* * *

Two days later Jordan was on a plane with a one-way ticket from Oregon to Boston. She was thrilled, nervous, excited, and a little nauseous. Garret was meeting her at the airport, he was the only one that knew she was coming back. She needed to gradually get back into her life, a storm of her friends would just send her running now. She's spent so much time alone that that much attention would scare the hell out of her.

She got to skip baggage claim when she arrived, all she had was a carry-on. She had spent the last four months traveling very, very lightly. She scanned the airport, FBI agent still by her side, playing protector, just to be safe. Then she saw Garret, and instead of running like she thought she would, she walked apprehensively, recalling their last encounter.

When she got to him tears were already in her eyes, and when he wrapped his arms around her, she just lost it. She collapsed into him, sobbing, both sinking to the floor. She was crying for every reason that she'd wanted to in the last four months, and hadn't let herself. She cried for J.D., she cried for her fear, confusion, and loneliness, and she cried because it was finally over.

Garret didn't know how long she'd cried for. He knew it was a while, because after waiting uncomfortably that FBI agent gave up, and left her in his capable hands. He knew this because, he'd heard numerous flight departures announced. He finally got her up, and they walked out of the airport, Jordan still looking more apprehensive, and more broken than he'd ever seen her. When they got to Max's she hugged her father hard, and then passed out in on his couch, not bothering to go to the bed.

* * *

"Hello?" Max answered the ringing phone the next afternoon.

"Is Jordan Cavanaugh available?"

"Who's calling?"

"Cindy Carmichael from CBS 5. I was wondering if I could-"

"No, you can't. Leave her alone, she's been through enough." Max said angrily, hanging up on her.

"Dad who was that?" Jordan had heard the end of the conversation.

"Don't worry about it."

"A reporter?"

"Yes."

"Wow, I thought I'd have a bit more time."

"They have been calling everybody, especially Garret. Apparently it's fairly common knowledge that you two are close?"

"I guess…How long have they been doing this?"

"Week or two since you went to D.C. I guess."

"And nobody told me?"

"You couldn't have done anything, and you didn't need another worry."

"I still wish you'd told me."

"What, so you could worry about those obnoxious bastards instead of staying alive? I don't think so. Anyway, we all just started screening." He said smiling at her.

Jordan would have let it go, but the next few days showed her she couldn't. Reporters called at least once an hour at her father's house, almost as often Garret's numerous lines, work, home, cell. Woody, Lu, Lily, Nigel, and Bug were all getting called at least once every few hours. On occasion a reporter would have balls enough to knock on apartment doors. Once a week at least one would be ballsy enough to walk into the morgue, they didn't stay long though.

* * *

Three days after she came back to Boston, Jordan started back at work. Not in full capacity obviously. She finished paperwork that she'd had to leave, basically fixed the mess that had been left when she left. This was when she finally decided to end the mess. She could hear Nigel's voice through her open office door.

"Dr. Cavanaugh has permanently moved to Miami. She isn't coming back."

"Do you have a forwarding address, or new phone number."

"Testicles of steel you have, don't you? I'm not giving you any information. Bugger off!"

"When you talk to her, tell her Lifetime is interested on getting her story, we'd like to do a movie on her. Here's my card."

"Fine. Leave, now."

"Alright, alright. Relax." When Jordan heard the door close she went up to Nigel.

"Bloody Lifetime wants you, Love." He said walking back to his office as she followed him.

"I heard. Sorry."

"Not your fault, don't think it for a minute. You didn't ask for the harassment."

"I know, but I am the reason for it."

"They can't keep it up much longer."

"They hell they can't. Nige, do you still have the card from that PBS reporter?" Nigel could see the wheels in her head turning.

"Probably in the box I saved to use as kindling." He told her rummaging through the desk he'd just gotten back to.

"Can I have it?"

"Of course- Why?"

"I'm ending this."

"What are you going to do?" He asked holding up the card.

"Take back my life."

"Angie Harper's office."

"May I please speak to Ms. Harper?"

"She is a bit busy at the moment, but I'll give her a message."

"Tell her Jordan Cavanaugh is calling, she'll take this call."

"Cavanaugh, Cavanaugh…the M.E. from Boston!."

"Yes. I'd like to speak with her."

"Yes, yes, just a moment." The secretary was suddenly very flustered.

"Dr. Cavanaugh?" Jordan heard the anxious voice less than minute later.

"Call me Jordan."

"Jordan, what can I do for you?" she seemed almost in shock.

"I want to offer you an exclusive to my story."

"When can you come in to be interviewed?"

"Tomorrow work for you?"

"I'll make it work. You know we are in New York, right?"

"Yes. I'll see you at nine."

"Alright, thank you Jordan."

The next night Jordan was dead tired after being interviewed all day. They had spent a miracle of only half and hour on make-up and then jumped into the interview. They stopped for lunch at 1 o'clock, and continued on till nearly nine. The camera had stopped rolling, everybody was quitting, and Jordan was about to leave when Angie said she had one more question.

"Not that I don't appreciate, because I do. But, why me?"

"I thought PBS would be the least likely to screw me over." Jordan answered, turning her heel and leaving for her hotel.

"If only they were all that honest." Angie said as she shook her head in amusement and headed to her dressing room. She would be grateful to the ballsy M.E. for a long time, PBS was already discussing a raise or even a promotion.


	15. Move Along

The next night the first third of the segment ended. They broke it into four pieces: her life before the murder and the murder itself, fleeing, the end of fleeing and the FBI and the trial, and her life post-murder. Jordan watched it with her family, all six of them, who held her hand or squeezed when her on-screen self talked about the more painful things. They all hated the idea of her doing the interview at first, and tried to talk her out of it when they found out. She simply told them it was best, and left it at that. They still supported her now, whether they liked it or not.

"Jordan, that was so brave." Lily spoke first when the first segment ended. Jordan just shrugged.

"Really that took guts, to put it all out there like that. To revisit everything. I couldn't have done that."

"It was as much for me personally as it was to get those reporters off all our backs. I needed to get it all out to move on. And I want to be able to move on."

"What say I grab some very greasy pizzas, and some very finely brewed beer, and celebrate the end to this, love." Nigel suggested.

"Make it soda Nige, and you've got a deal." She looked at Garret as she suggested the soda.

"Don't switch to soda on account of me, I can handle watching you all drink."

"It's fine Garret. We're all there for each other right." She stared him straight in the eyes.

"Alright," he finally assented. "You, Jordan, have an uncanny ability to get what you want." He told her before he left with Nigel to get the pizzas.

"You just sky-rocketed that woman's career Jordan." Bug announced. "She should give you her first born."

"What would I do with that?"

Bug looked confused for a minute, "Give it back?" he asked, as they all laughed at him.

"Oh shut-it. It's an expression." That only made them laugh harder, but Jordan stopped laughing long enough to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Jordan. I just saw your segment on PBS." A familiar voice answered.

"Dr. Stiles, what did you think of it?"

"I'm very proud of you Jordan." He said, leaving her speechless.

"Thank you." She stuttered out, when she got her voice back.

"I mean that, Jordan. I was a bit afraid of the consequences of all this on you. But now I see, I really didn't need to worry. I'd still like to see you though, when you get some time."

"Yeah, sure." She said, still stunned from his admissions.

"How's tomorrow, 10:30?"

"Yeah, tomorrow is fine."

"Then I'll see you then, Jordan."

"Sure."

"Good night Jordan."

"Right, bye." She said hanging up.

"What did the shrink say to you to make you loose half your vocabulary?" Max asked, half jokingly.

"He said he was proud of me, for the interview."

"So are we Jordan." He told her, running his hand up and down her shoulder to show his support.

"Thanks. You don't still think it was a bad idea?"

"I don't love it, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of you since you did it. Lily is right, that takes a lot of guts. Not something you ever had in short supplied." He said smiling at her.

"Got that right." Said Woody. "Never have I met a more stubborn, fearless woman, and I doubt I ever will."

* * *

The rest of that night was spent eating, talking, joking, reminiscing, and generally enjoying each other's company. Maybe hope at having her life back wasn't lost to Jordan, it would just take time. These were her thoughts as her family left heading to their respective houses, so they could get at least a bit of sleep, seeing as how they all had to work the next morning. Though Lucky for four of them their boss was going home just as late, and would be just as tired, and that much more lenient.

Woody stayed behind, wanting to talk to her privately. Seeing this, Max left to go to bed, kissing Jordan on the cheek and shaking Woody's hand. Jordan felt like a teenager, as he left them, and ambled up to bed.

"So, if this is too soon to discuss this, tell me, and I'll drop it till you're ready. But what about us?" he asked her, so they made their way back to the couch.

"Is there more to us than friendship?"

"Come on Jordan, there has always been more than friendship."

"Yes, but you have a girlfriend."

"Had."

"Had?"

"We broke up when we both realized I was still in love with you."

"Oh, when was that?"

"When she caught me stealing evidence for you."

"You didn't get in trouble for that did you?"

"No, she was too busy trying to find you to bother with me."

"Good."

"Jordan, do you still feel the same about me?"

"Yeah, I never really stopped being in love with you, that was the problem."

"So can we make a go at this?"

"Woody…"

"What?"

"We never seem to be on the same page, we just hurt each other."

"So lets get on the same page." He was determined to work this out, he woudn't lose her again.

"You mean have it out, now?"

"Too soon for you to deal with this?"

"No, I suppose the sooner the better. It's just…we have to listen to each other, we were never good at that." She looked uncomfortable, and sounded doubtful.

"So, we'll learn."

"Okay."

"You go first."

"Okay, I get why you said what you said at the hospital, it hurt like hell, but I understand that. I pushed you away, I know that hurt, and I know my timing was bad. But Woody, why did you lie to me later?" The hurt was all too evident in her voice.

"When?"

"When you used me to get to Riggs."

"Oh, that." Woody shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah that, that was one of the worst things anybody has ever done to me. I've been lied to before, but using our relationship? Why?" She was becoming angry now.

"I was still pissed at you. I was still pissed at the world. I wanted to get him, I didn't care who I hurt, especially if it was you."

"What about Lu?" she asked calming down.

"What about Pollack?" he shot back.

"You told me it was over, to stay out of your life, at least personal life. What was I supposed to do?"

"If my rejection hurt so much, why were you able to move so fast?"

"Because it hurt and I didn't want to hurt anymore. It hurt less when I was with him. And…and I was ready to be with someone, with you, but you weren't there, so I moved on."

"Did you love him?"

"No, but I think maybe I could have."

"That's why you invited him to Lily's wedding?"

"Yes…now what about Lu?"

"She was just there, it was easy with her."

"So when you told me we'd take our relationship slow, what, that was a lie?"

"No, maybe, I don't know. I planned on being with you, but she came along, and it was easy. No history, no issues, just two people."

"Why didn't you tell me before I found out?"

"Because, I knew I was being a dick."

"Yeah, you were."

"My turn?"

"Yes."

"How long have you loved me?"

"I don't know, years maybe."

"Then why did you work so hard pushing me away?" It was Woody's turn to be upset.

"You know that, I was afraid."

"Of getting hurt?"

"Partly."

"What's the other part?"

"I don't have much experience with relationships Woody, I was scared."

"All relationships are scary at first Jordan, that's why you don't marry immediately."

"I know, it's just…never mind."

"What?"

"I was…I was…uh…I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me? From what?"

"Me."

"Jordan you are going to have to explain that. Are you a werewolf or something?"

"Funny. No…"

"Jordan…?"

She was silent.

"What Jordan? Come on, your freaking me out a little here."

"What if I have inherited my mothers…problems? What if I lose it, and start, start, doing things…things like she did? What if you have to put me in a home, like my father did with her? I couldn't make you suffer through that Woody, I saw my father do it."

"That is what you've been afraid of all this time?"

"Yes."

"Jordan, I'm not worried."

"Why?"

"Because you may have your issues, but they aren't hers. If you had problems like hers, we'd know by now. Remember you're older than she was when she died."

"I guess so…"

"So…are we done interrogating each other?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"So can we make a go at this?"

"Yeah, slowly."

"You aren't going to run on me are you?"

"No."

"You sound very sure of that."

"I am. I want this Woody, more than you know. And I want my life back. I can't promise I won't want to run, but I'll think twice now."

"Okay, so can I take you out tomorrow?"

"I'd like that."


	16. Only Time Epilogue

The next day Jordan visited Dr. Stiles, and much to her chagrin agreed to see him every other week for at least the next two months. That day she also assisted on her first autopsy in over four months, and much to Garret's annoyance she stayed well after midnight studying the case over and over. She would have stayed later, but already had good basic evidence against her suspect. Needless to say she canceled her date with Woody, though he didn't mind. Jordan was just getting back into her groove, and he welcomed anything that brought her spark back. The following day, after arguing with the detective on the case until he accepted her findings, Jordan left with Woody for their first real, official date. It would take a lot of time, strength, and the support of her family, but Jordan would get her life back.

After the PBS special on Jordan aired, most of the reporters gave up their harassment. Jordan had revealed her story, in as much entirety as anyone could expect. There was nothing else people could ask to know about her miserable four months. Though Angie called after a few days, and asked Jordan for a follow-up interview in a year, which she agreed to. A few days after the first segment aired Jordan began receiving letters and cards from people who'd seen it, commending her for her courage and conviction.

In the end twelve people were indicted in what became known at that time as the "Bad Justice" case, though only nine people went to trial. Three of the five low-level dirty-work men rolled and testified against the remaining nine, in exchange for pleading to two counts each of murder, one count of attempted murder and one count of arson, sentences to be served concurrently, totaled to only twenty-five years to life. The three judges, and two laywers, Calamae and his partner, were sentenced to over 93 years in prison each for two counts of conspiracy to commit murder, two counts of conspiracy to attempt murder and multiple counts of racketeering and accepting bribes. The cigarette man, finally identified as Henry Mitchell, and his top aide were sentenced to 76 years in prison, two counts conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to attempt murder and conspiracy to commit arson. The remaining two low-level men were sentenced to each 79 years in prison, two counts murder, two counts attempted murder, and one count arson.


End file.
